Resurgence
by GeekGrrl
Summary: It has been a year. New prophecies turn up, strange events unfold.
1. The Anniversary

TITLE: Resurgence - Chapter 1: Anniversary 

TITLE: Resurgence - Chapter 1: Anniversary  
AUTHOR: Sheri Steeves  
FEEDBACK: Please! Post to list or send e-mail to sheristeeves@hotmail.com  
ARCHIVE:   
SPOILERS: Takes place after Season 5 - The Gift.  
RATING: PG  
DISCLAIMER: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy etc own all of this. I'm just borrowing to feed my addiction until season 6 starts.  
SUMMARY: It has been a year. New prophecies turn up, strange events unfold. And maybe, just maybe, Buffy will be back. Depends on what my muse lets me do.

Dawn glanced out the window at the setting sun and sighed with relief as she stacked her schoolbooks and set them aside. Giles would be home from the magic shop soon. Taking a casserole and a bag of O-negative from the fridge, she put the casserole in the oven and set the timer. Grabbing a "I love Vampires" mug from the cupboard, she poured the thick, viscous liquid into it and put it into the microwave to heat. When the microwave dinged, she took the mug and started down the basement stairs.

"Spike? You up?" she called from the bottom of the stairs. From around the wall, in the basement apartment Xander had built for Spike, she heard movement, and then the groggy accented voice.

"Yeah, Lil' Bit, I'm up." 

Dawn walked around the corner to see a just awakened Spike, slumped on the side of the bed. Handing him his mug, she sat down on the armchair set beside the bed.

"What? No Wheatabix?"

"Don't be baby, Spike! You finished them yesterday, remember? Tomorrow is grocery day. We'll get some more then."

"Crap, s' right. Forgot. Sorry. Finished the lessons for today?" Spike drained the mug quickly. His drinking blood had never bothered Dawn, but it still bothered him that it didn't. It should have, no matter how unusual her life was.

"Yeah, I've had my fill of geometry, the periodic table and the French Revolution. I'm all studied out. I need a workout now. "

"Sounds 'bout right. Want me show you some new stuff?"

"Sure. Giles showed me what I was doing wrong with that flip yesterday."

" Lets go then."

********************

Giles pulled into the drive of the house on Revello drive. Parking the car, he picked up the package from the front seat and entered the house. Setting the package on the coffee table in the living room, he walked into the kitchen. Seeing the oven light on, he was relieved that Dawn had remembered it was her turn to cook. As he was setting two places at the table, he could her grunts and shouts from the basement. Spike was up then. He and Dawn must be practicing.

Grabbing a water bottle from the fridge, Giles went downstairs, following the sounds of fighting and exertion. Spike's voice rang out.

"That all you got... come on! Ugh!!"

The sound of a body solidly hitting the mats made Giles wince. Entering the workout room on the other side of the basement, Giles watched as Dawn helped Spike up. 

"Ok, I think you worked out the kinks in that move." Spike winced as he rotated his shoulder. That had been some throw. Almost as good as - NO, don't go there!

"Thanks, Spike. Giles is a good teacher, but when it comes to actual practice, he's a bit fragile."

Glancing behind Dawn, Spike saw the Watcher standing there. Looking back at Dawn, Spike grinned and said, "Well, humans tend to be a bit fragile... ain't that right, Watcher?"

"Most certainly is, Spike." 

Dawn whirled around. "Giles! I didn't hear you come in!" 

Giles handed Dawn the water bottle as he shared a wry grin with the platinum blonde vampire. "Us fragile types tend not to make much noise. Almost time for supper. See you upstairs."

********************

Dawn and Giles sat in silence. Giles mechanically ate while he leafed through another mouldy old book. Dawn mostly played with her food. Spike stared listlessly in front of him, a second mug of blood in his hands. The clatter of Dawn's fork as it hit her plate startled both the vampire and the watcher.

"Sorry." Dawn said, seeing them looking at her. There was another length of silence. Oh just say it, Dawn admonished herself. Get it over with. Taking a breath, she asked "So, you know what tomorrow is?"

Setting down his fork, Giles removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. Sliding his glasses back on, he reached into his pocket for a handkerchief. He removed his glasses again and started polishing them. He sighed and looked over at the vampire. Spike had stopped staring into space, and was now staring into his mug as if it held all the answers in the world. The hand gripping the handle of the mug was clenched; Spike's knuckles showing paler against his pale hands. Any tighter and he would break the handle. They all knew what tomorrow was. A year ago tomorrow, Buffy had died to save them all.

"Um, yes, er, we know what tomorrow is. Willow and Tara are going to the grave tomorrow after classes. I believe Xander is going with them as well. They would be delighted if you joined them. They asked me to tell you." Putting his glasses back on, Giles looked first at Spike, who still hadn't moved, and then at Dawn. 

Looking back at the Watcher Dawn was surprised to suddenly realize how old Giles looked. There was more grey in his hair, and his eyes looked tired. He just didn't have the same energy has he used to. The taciturn ex-librarian would never admit it, but losing Buffy had been the hardest thing he had ever gone through. It had aged him. He had been to the graveyard once, for the funeral. To her knowledge, never again had he stepped foot in the cemetery. It simply hurt too much.

"Oh, okay. I'll tell Xander tonight that I'll meet them at the magic shop after school. We're meeting him at his apartment before we go patrolling." Dawn scraped most of her supper in the garbage, put her plate in the sink, and turned to Spike.

"Ready to go Spike?"

"Yeah. Lets go." The vampire got up from the table, rinsed his mug, grabbed the bag of weapons by the door, and followed Dawn out into the night. To anyone who did not know him, or had not known the old Spike, they would not notice the lack of enthusiasm, the woodeness of Spike's movements. Buffy's death had sucked most of the joy of his unlife right out of him. Now, the only thing he lived for was Dawn and patrolling. 

Alone in the kitchen, Giles thought back. Had it really been a year already? It felt like hardly anytime at all had passed, and yet it also felt like forever. There had been a lot of changes. Since the death of Joyce, and then Buffy, Giles had become Dawn's legal guardian. Joyce had originally set that up just as a safety net, never wanting to think about her eldest daughter dying, but pragmatic enough to face the realities of Buffy's life as the Slayer. It was something Joyce, Buffy and Giles had talked about before the operation. Buffy's father was not an option. Especially with Dawn being the Key. Joyce had said that "father" or not, Dawn would be better off with Giles, with someone who knew exactly what she was. And after Hank's no-show at Joyce's death, leaving his eldest to deal with her mother's death alone, Giles was inclined to agree with Joyce. After Buffy's death Giles had sublet his condo and moved into the Summer's residence. 

As part of his promise to Buffy, Spike had moved in as well. He couldn't stay in his crypt with every bad ass in town gunning for him after the fight with Glory. Xander had helped Spike build a partition in the basement, and move his stuff in. The two had come to an understanding. They would never be friends - they were too alike for that, although neither would admit it. They were however working together, fighting the good fight along with the rest of the Scoobies. They tried to carry on in Buffy's absence. It was hard. Crime and deaths were up, but they were able to do some good. Willow and Tara had finally figured out that sunlight spell, but had to watch when they used it. It wouldn't do to fry your main powerhouse. Spike was out patrolling every night with them. He was the only one who could take any amount of damage, and he had a lot of rage to work through. Seeing Buffy die would have killed him, if he hadn't already been dead. The only things that kept him alive were Dawn and his promise to Buffy.

Dawn had had a real tough time of it at first. She had blamed herself for a long time, and still did to some extent. They had wondered at times if she would make it, but she was stronger than they thought. A month after the battle, Dawn convinced them to start training her like Buffy had trained. She argued with them that not being able to defend herself had ultimately cost her the life of her sister. Next time, she said, she wanted to be able to help herself. Since it was the first interest she had showed in anything, Giles and Spike had agreed. A few months later, she was patrolling with the group as well. While she didn't have Buffy's Slayer strength and healing, she was determined to do her part. Giles had originally said that she was too young to go with the others, and would have to wait a year or two, that she could go with them when she was older. She has simply ignored him and slipped out her bedroom window. Much as Buffy had done at that age. Dawn was more like Buffy than she knew. In the end, Giles had relented, knowing she was safer if she went with the others than slipping out by herself.

Anya and Xander were married now. Xander was still working in construction and Anya was still working for him at The Magic Shop. Giles was glad he had bought the shop. Gave him something to do, a way to earn a living. The council had pulled him off of official Watcher duty. Couldn't really be a Watcher without a Slayer. Giles had also faced the fact that he could not train another Slayer. A part of his heart had died with Buffy. So now Giles had official citizen status and ran the Magic Shop. What with being on the Hellmouth, business was always good. He still kept in touch with the council. He had some good friends there that were willing to send information or a particular book his way when it seemed necessary. For his "research". Research that usually involved trying to determine how to kill whatever nasty demon had decided to visit the Hellmouth that week. Resident Slayer or no resident Slayer, the bad guys just kept coming.

Rising from the table, Giles put his dish in the sink, plugged in the kettle, and tidied the kitchen. Once the tea was made, Giles settled in the living room with the package from Angel. Opening it, he found three slim, leather bound volumes, and a letter from the last person he would have expected.

Rupert,

I thought you would be interested in the contents of these diaries. A watcher chum of mine that does research for them sent me these. They were found in a manor in Romania, when it was demolished. 

Wesley Wyndam-Price.

Intrigued, Giles set the letter aside and picked up the first volume from the stack. The book was slightly larger than a paperback novel, but much thinner. The leather bound cover was faded but not cracked, and the pages looked intact. Opening the book, the musty smell of old books wafted out to greet him. The writing was thin and faded, but legible enough. The title caught his eye and he started to read.

tbc


	2. Dreams and Daggers

Resurgence - Chapter 2: Dreams and Daggers 

TITLE: Resurgence - Chapter 2: Dreams and Daggers  
AUTHOR: Sheri Steeves  
FEEDBACK: Please! Post to list or send e-mail to sheristeeves@hotmail.com  
ARCHIVE: alt.tv.buffy.v.slayer.creative, fanfiction.net SPOILERS: Takes place after Season 5 - The Gift.  
RATING: PG  
DISCLAIMER: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy etc own all of this. I'm just borrowing to feed my addiction until season 6 starts.  
SUMMARY: It has been a year. New prophecies turn up, strange events unfold. And maybe, just maybe, Buffy will be back. Depends on what my muse lets me do.

The silence was broken only by the creak of broken timbers, the shifting of bricks and the harsh sound of someone sobbing. Gasping, racking sobs of someone in great pain. Spike realized that those sounds were coming from him. Choking back the next sob, he abruptly, fiercely brought his emotions under control. Locked them away for later. For the empty, lonely nights of solitude. Time enough then to deal with his grief.

Shifting to look back at the others, Spike gasped as pain shot through his leg. Remembered the fall from the tower. That long, endless moment of weightless eternity. Watching his hope, his chance at saving Dawn get smaller and smaller as he fell. The abrupt blossoming of all-encompassing pain as he hit the ground, then nothing.

His awareness of the world again had come into focus like a telly being turned on. A sharp pinpoint of definition at the center, the picture fuzzy at the edges but getting larger and sharper as he watched. Then he saw.

The sudden noise of the portal opening had made his undead heart cringe. They had failed. HE had failed. Failed Niblet. Failed himself. Failed Buffy. Looking up he had seen Buffy and Dawn talking, their light and dark hair tangled together in the winds escaping the portal. He had seen Dawn grab Buffy as Buffy moved to the end of the platform. Saw Buffy shake off Dawn's hand and move past her. A cold feeling had crept into him, starting in the pit of his stomach and moving up to grip his heart and sit in his throat like a lump he could not swallow. Then he had known. He had known what Buffy was about to do. What she had really meant with that conversation at her house when she asked him to look after Dawn.

He had tried to yell, but nothing would escape past the lump in his throat. He had tried to reach her, but he hadn't taken more than two steps before she dove from the platform. Dove to her death. Another step and he had collapsed behind a wall as the coldness suddenly broke and a scream escaped him. Unheard by the others over the noise of the portal closing, all his love, his hate and his grief were in that scream and the sobs that had followed unbidden, unstoppable.

********************

Spike jolted awake, the scream echoing in his ears, cold sweat running down his spine. The dream again. Always the dream of the night he had failed Buffy. It wasn't enough that he had to face every night knowing she was gone, but there was no escape in sleep during the day either. He had tried everything he could think of to stop the dreams. Drank himself into a stupor night after night for a time. That just gave him a hangover on top of the dreams. Patrolling all night, slaying every demon and vampire he came across helped only while he was fighting. When he was fighting he could let the anger out, release the rage that simmered inside. Whatever hapless creature he fought was merely the recipient of the built-up guilt inside. But when the fight was over, nothing had changed. There was no one to join in the euphoria of surviving another battle, no one to share the feeling of triumph. Buffy was still gone, and he was still... well not alive, but still here.

Knowing he wouldn't sleep anymore today, Spike swung his legs over the side of the bed. The basement was still dark, but his vampiric sight could make out the shape of stacked boxes, a tool bench and other vague shapes. The Summer's basement was a far cry from his crypt, but it was safer for both him and Dawn. He was keeping his promise to protect Dawn, just as he said he would. It was safer for him to stay here, where other vampires couldn't enter. The demon underworld had little love for Spike now that it was common knowledge that he fought on the Slayer's team. They had ways of dealing with turncoats. The smashed contents of his crypt brought that fact home with astonishing clarity the night of Buffy's funeral. 

Her funeral. With a jab of pain, he realized what day today was. The pain was as fresh now as that day a year ago. Dawn was probably at her grave, with Willow, Tara and Xander. He should be there with her, to comfort her, to share her pain. But until the sun set, he could not. Shaking of the remnants of the dream, Spike started up the stairs to the kitchen. There was another small matter to worry about. He hadn't worried about it at the time, too busy a year ago with dealing with losing Buffy. But now it seemed significant, especially after last night.

Xander had seen Dawn home just before midnight last night, while Spike continued to patrol. When he had finally crept back in the house just after four in the morning, he had looked in on Dawn as had become his habit. At first glance, she had been sleeping sound. Then he had seen spread around her the contents of the box of Buffy's stuff that she kept. Mr Pointy, Mr Gordo the stuffed pig, the picture that Dawn had given her for her birthday, and the gold cross on it's chain and the cladagh ring that the poof had given Buffy lay beside her on the bed. From the light of the setting moon, he had seen the silver tear tracks on her cheeks that told him the Dawn had cried herself to sleep. Quietly, not wanting to wake Dawn, Spike had gathered up the momentos and put them back in the box on the floor beside the bed. As he had picked up the gold chain, it had slipped from his hand. Unthinking, he had grabbed it by the cross as it fell. Nothing had happened. No burning, no blistering, no smoke, no pain. Stunned, the cross still in his hand, he had left her room and retreated to the basement.

Now he thought back to THAT night. To Doc stabbing him with the knife. The knife wound that had healed but left a scar. He hadn't thought too much about it, but now Spike realized that it was strange. Part of the vampire package was super-fast healing. And no scarring. Hell, he had healed from being crippled and from being tortured by a God. A mere knife wound should not have left a scar. The only other injury that had ever scarred had been that sword cut from the first Slayer he had killed. Maybe there was a connection there, maybe not. There was only one way to find out.

tbc


	3. Prophecies by Sunlight

Resurgence - Chapter 3: Prophecies by Sunlight 

TITLE: Resurgence - Chapter 3: Prophecies by Sunlight  
AUTHOR: Sheri Steeves;  
FEEDBACK: Please! Post to list or send e-mail to sheristeeves@hotmail.com  
ARCHIVE: alt.tv.buffy-v-slayer.creative, fanfiction.net   
SPOILERS: Takes place after Season 5 - The Gift.  
RATING: PG  
DISCLAIMER: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy etc own all of this. I'm just borrowing to feed my addiction until season 6 starts.  
SUMMARY: It has been a year. New prophecies turn up, strange events unfold. And maybe, just maybe, Buffy will be back. Depends on what my muse lets me do.

As soon as the afternoon shadows were long enough, Spike made his way to the Magic Shop. Entering from the back entrance in the alley, he noticed how quiet the shop was. Looking around, he saw the shop was empty, the closed sign hanging in the door. Perfect. He could do some research on Doc's knife and no one would be the wiser. This losing of his vampiric abilities was getting to be too much of a habit for his tastes.

Walking by the office, Spike stopped. He wasn't alone. Looking in he saw Giles slumped over his desk, his head on his arms. Spread in front of him were three small books, a sheaf of old-looking papers and a mail express envelope. To the side was an opened bottle of scotch and a shot glass. Leaving the Watcher to his grief, Spike quietly walked out to the main part of the shop, and up the steps to the loft. He knew this was where the more powerful and valuable books were kept. And contrary to what everyone else thought, he was quite knowledgeable and able to read most of them. But you can't have a Big Bad stuck researching, nose in a dusty old book. Totally ruins the image. And it reminded him far too much of what he used to be. Scanning the titles, Spike found some that looked promising, and settled down in a shadowy corner of the loft.

Closing the last dry, dusty text with disgust, Spike set it aside. Nothing. There had been no mention of anything to do with Hell gods, worshippers, or enchanted demon knives. Rubbing his tired eyes with one hand, he became aware of warmth on his other hand. Looking over, he could only stare for long moments, unable to believe his eyes. The sun had shifted as he had read, and now, slanted over his hand in all it's golden splendour, was a ray of sunshine. And nothing was happening.

"Bloody hell!"

Snatching his hand out of the sun's reach, Spike stood up on legs suddenly gone weak. Tentatively, Spike stretched his hand out toward the sunbeam again. Slowly, fingers spread and shaking, he intersected the ray of light. The shadowy outline of his hand was magnified across the main level of the shop. Turning his hand, he watched the play of sunlight on his flesh. Flesh that hadn't felt the warmth of sunlight in one hundred and twenty six years.

"Oh dear lord!"

A crash below broke his reverie. Hand still outstretched, Spike turned to see Giles standing below him. The crash had been from the glass of scotch he had been carrying. The shattered glass glinted from the puddle of golden liquid at his feet. Face as pale as Spike's, Giles could only stare in disbelief, unable to take in the scene before him. The jingle of the bell over the door went unnoticed by both of them.

The quiet conversation of the gang as they entered the shop stopped as they took in Giles' stunned disbelief and Spike's stance. Spike was the first to break the silence.

"Uh, we got a problem here."

Spike's understatement broke Giles from his reverie. The disbelief faded, replaced with a thoughtful expression. As he watched, Giles' face hardened, his eyes reflecting anger and a "don't mess with me" attitude. Spike knew that face. Had been nose to nose with it when Giles had threatened Spike to leave Buffy alone, telling him that they were not his friends, nor were they his way to Buffy. For the Ripper to come out, something big had upset the normally even-tempered Watcher. Voice deepened by the anger apparent in his face, sounding like the glass shards under foot, Giles ground out an answer.

"I'm afraid we may have more than a mere problem. Much, much more." 

********************

"And crosses don't affect you either?" Xander repeated.

"No. Look, I already told you lot everything." Spike slouched in the chair. He hadn't wanted to bring this up in front of everyone. But here he was, spilling his guts in front of them. Looking around at their expectant faces, he rolled his eyes in disgust and went through the spiel again.

"For the bloody millionth time. The knife wound from Doc took a long time to heal, and left a scar. Can't bloody well see myself so how was I to know until Dawn pointed it out a while back. Didn't think much of it 'til last night when I touched the cross and nothing happened. And just now. Getting all friendly with the sunlight. That's it, that's all. What's not to understand? What the hell is going on, Watcher?"

Giles regarded the vampire slumped in the chair. He was radiating "don't care" attitude. The way he sat, his voice, the expression on his face. But Spike hadn't called him Watcher in quite a while now. It was a sure sign that the vampire was more upset over the recent turn of events that his cool exterior let on. That was how Spike handled everything. The more it mattered to him, the less he acted as if it did. He wasn't the only one who was upset. Except Giles wasn't upset. He was angry. No, beyond angry, try furious. No. Words didn't begin to describe the red pit of rage that had almost overwhelmed him earlier. It was only from the many years of controlling that side of himself that he was able to block the anger, to box it up, to control it. No, upset didn't even start to cover what he felt.

Without a word, Giles walked away from the group sitting at the table and went into the office behind the cash. Gathering the journals from Wesley and the papers that had come this morning he returned to the others. Setting them on the table, he paused looking at the faces looking back at him. They reminded him of baby birds waiting to be fed. Relying on him to feed them, or in this case, to have the answers. As he always did. Have a problem? Run to Giles. He'll know what to do, or at least what to look up. This was one answer he wished he didn't have the solution too. For a moment he felt far older than his years. 

Looking at Giles, Willow nudged Xander. "Here comes the lecture. See, that's his lecture face."

A glare from Giles silenced Willow. Looking at the six of them, he debated on whether or not to tell them. Right now it was only speculation. His speculation. It wasn't even a very good translation. But it fit. Fit all too well. Looking at the vampire, he started to explain.

"Spike, I have no idea why you can suddenly abide crosses and sunlight. We will need to do some research on the dagger first. But we do know that, for whatever reason, you can. These, " Giles motioned to the papers and books on the table, " are from the Council. Not directly of course." Picking up the first of the three books, Giles held it up. 

"I'm not even supposed to have this. The only reason we have it is that Angel and Wesley sent it to us."

"How did they get it? Wesley's not exactly in the good with the Council either." Willow interjected.

"There was some mention in them of Shanshu, so I imagine that it why Wesley's friend sent them to him. Upon reading them, Wesley realized what they were, and what they contained, and so sent them to us."

"C'mon Giles, stop with the cryptic. WHAT are they?" Xander asked.

"Yes, well, they are Slayer diaries from the 1800's. Exactly a hundred and one years ago. They contain entries of the life of the Slayer of that time. A Slayer who also had to defeat a Hell God. Except this Slayer succeeded. And these diaries tell how."

Silence descended in the room. Xander looked confused. Willow was flabbergasted, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to find words. Dawn just sat there, shock written on her face. Beside her, Spike was paler than usual, his face hard as he too realized the implications of what Giles had just said. Finally, seeing no one else was going to speak, or couldn't, Dawn asked what they all were thinking.

"So, the council knew all this and didn't tell us? They let Buffy die?" Her voice rose an octave on the last question. 

Spike surged from his seat, a black blur of aggression. Turning around, he kicked his chair. It fell over with a crash. Spike kicked it again. The chair went sailing in the air to land on the loft stairway, wooden slats breaking.

"Soddin' bastards. Knew you couldn't trust 'em." Spike's eyes blazed with anger. "That's exactly what he's saying, L'il Bit."

Looking to Giles for affirmation, Willow stammered, " But... they're on our side... they are supposed to help...uh oh, you have that _I'm not finished yet_ look." Voice trailing into silence, Willow sat back in her chair. Tara reached over and took her lover's hand in silent support.

"There's more? Why does there always have to be more? And why am I not surprised?" Xander shook his head.

Holding his hand up to forestall any more questions, Giles continued. "I read these journals last night. I was frankly quite baffled that they had been kept from us. I couldn't figure out why the Council would keep such pertinent information from us. It simply made no sense. Then this morning I received these papers from a colleague. Again, they did not make much more sense. Not until I saw Spike."

Spike whirled to face Giles. "Me! What the hell have I got to do with it?"

"These papers contain a prophecy. A Slayer prophecy." Giles paused and looked around him. Spike looked ready to spit nails, Xander looked just as angry. The four girls just sat there. Laying the paper in front of them, Giles read the prophecy.

"Slayer's key is slayer's life,   
blood freely given,   
hosted by immortal coil,   
knightly creature passes,   
under blaze of sun,   
Sundered becomes undone,   
Second rising brings twofold  
Spirit of Slayer."

Giles watched the reactions. They were expectant at the beginning. But as he read out the prophecy, their expressions changed. It made no sense. He could see them working it out, trying to find the reason in it.

Tara was the first to make a connection. 

"Slayer's key.... That could be Dawn. I-I mean, she is the Key still, isn't she?"

Looking at her lover, Willow too, began to make the connections. 

"So, we need Dawn's blood..."

"Hey, no one's bleeding Niblet!" Spike interjected.

"Relax, Spike. We haven't figured anything out yet. Have we?" Xander looked at Giles. About to speak, Giles was interrupted by Dawn.

"Knightly creature... does that mean those creepy Knights of Byzantium?"

"No. " Giles explained. "That was the part that really made no sense. Then I realized it was a translation error. Somewhere it was copied wrong. It should be nightly, as in creature of the night."

"Creatures of the night... that's usually a vampire."

"Hosted by immortal coil, but Dawnie's not immortal.'

"Sundered becomes undone..."

"Vampires are immortal, but they can't stand light..."

"Spike can now..."

"Me, whatd'ya bringing me into this for?"

Voices mingled as they shared ideas back and forth. As they came to the same conclusion as Giles had earlier, they all fell silent. 

"It fits. Just like you said Giles." Willow was solemn. Overwhelmed by the prophecy, and the duplicity of the Council.

"What did you interpret?' Giles asked. Let them come to their conclusions. If they all thought the same thing then maybe it wasn't just his grief and guilt trying to find answers and conclusions that weren't there. It was Dawn that spoke up.

"We use my blood. Spike drinks from me. Then at noon, we pass the blood to Buffy. We bring her back."

"And she is twice as strong. That's why the Council wanted her to die. They didn't care about the sacrifices she made, the hell she went through with Glory..." anger choked his voice for a moment, then Spike ground out "They just wanted a better Slayer."

Spike's gaze met Giles', and saw the same smouldering fury burning behind his eyes. The same need for revenge. Revenge for the loss of a love, the loss of a daughter for nothing more than a power move by people who never suffered the after-effects of their decisions. People to whom he, the Slayer, and the Scoobies were merely pawns in a game that they played to their advantage. Until now. Now it was time for the pawns to strike back.

tbc


	4. Flight from Decisions

TITLE: Resurgence - Chapter 4: Flight from Decisions 

TITLE: Resurgence - Chapter 4: Flight from Decisions  
AUTHOR: Sheri Steeves  
FEEDBACK: Please! Post to list or send e-mail to sheristeeves@hotmail.com  
ARCHIVE: alt.tv.buffy-v-slayer.creative, fanfiction.net   
SPOILERS: Takes place after Season 5 - The Gift.  
RATING: PG  
DISCLAIMER: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy etc own all of this. I'm just borrowing to feed my addiction until season 6 starts.  
SUMMARY: It has been a year. New prophecies have turned up, strange events unfold. The gang know what they have to do, but will they, or even should they?

Seeing the fury in Spike's eyes, and Giles' expression, Willow hesitated to speak. Looking at the others sitting at the table, she saw they were silently encouraging her to speak for them, to ask the question they all needed to hear the answer to. Lastly meeting Tara's eyes on her left, Tara gently squeezed their joined hands in encouragement. Taking a breath, Willow asked.

"Are we going to do it? Are we going to bring her back?"

Willow's question broke the connection between the two Englishmen. Spike turned away, slouching against the stairs to the loft as he too waited for Giles to answer. Giles sighed. This was not a decision he wanted to make. And looking around at the rest of them he realized it was not his decision alone. This involved all of them. Buffy had died so they all could live, so it only made sense that they all should decide whether or not to bring her back.

"It's not my decision alone to make. We all decide. Me. Dawn. Willow. Tara. Anya. You. Spike." Giles pointed at each of them in turn, "We all have a say in this."

Stunned by the responsibility, they just looked at each other, with the exception of Spike, who continued to slouch, his gaze now concentrated on the floor between his feet. They get to decide? But Giles always led. Or Buffy. Or they both led, or fought over what to do. Now it was up to them.

Looking at Giles, Dawn asked, " How do we know this "prophecy" will work?"

"We don't really..." Giles answered.

"Um.. Should we even try to bring her back? " Tara's quiet voice broke into the lull after Giles trailed off. She looked at the rest of them from under her hair. "'Cause there've been bad things with bringing people back."

The hopeful look on Dawn's face faded as she remembered the resurrection spell she had tried to do for her mom. That wasn't how she wanted Buffy to be. Her voice small and disappointed, she agreed with Tara. 

"Maybe... we should just let her be. I mean... at least now she is at peace..."

"I'm sure she is, Dawnie." Tara leaned over and gave her slim shoulder a pat.

"How do we know this prophecy will even work out? How do we know it is even real?" Anya pointed out with her usual pragmatism.

"Until I get some answers from the Council, I haven't a clue as to whether the prophecy is real or not. All we know for sure is that they deliberately withheld information we could have used in the fight with Glory. I do not think they are setting us up with the prophecy. Like the Slayer diaries, they do not know we have it. As well, they do not know about Spike's new 'abilities', or lack of... "

"Hey! I'm not 'lacking' anything!" Spike half-heartedly protested. His mind was too busy sorting out other thoughts to offer more than a token response to the quasi-insult.

Unfazed by Spike's outburst, Giles continued, "I do believe they saw the fight with Glory as a way to get rid of Buffy. Anything they cannot control, they usually find a way to... remove. And they are not above bringing her back themselves if and when it suits them. And how it suits them."

"All the more reason to use this prophecy to bring her back." Xander stated. 

"Is getting back at the council enough of a reason to bring her back? You all want her back, I know. I do too, but as Tara has mentioned, raising people from the dead can have... unexpected results. I'm not saying we shouldn't, just that we should consider all the angles before we commit ourselves." Giles argued.

"But I think it would be better if we got her back, not the council. We want Buffy back. They just want their extra-special slayer." Willow responded. Her tone of voice made it clear just what she thought of The Council's duplicity.

" But what if she doesn't come back right?" Dawn looked torn. Part of her wanted to believe that they could get Buffy back, and another part of her kept flashing back to the night she almost raised her mom.

"Well, prophecies are usually little different than a resurrection spell, so we may be all right there." Anya pointed out, "If there is a prophecy, then it usually means you were meant to come back. A resurrection spell forces something dead to take on the semblance of life."

"Kinda like Spike." Xander remarked, thinking that Spike always had something to say about everything, but so far had said nothing. Maybe the insult would bring him into the discussion.

At Xander's remark, Spike stopped glaring at the floor and glared at Xander instead, and finally spoke.

"Should we...can we...will we. Dunn't matter."

"What do you mean doesn't matter? Xander asked, outraged that Spike could suggest that Buffy didn't matter. " I thought you would be the first to want her back."

"Want her back! 'Course I bloody want her back. But not to be used as a pawn against the council. Pawn of the council, pawn against the council, she's still a pawn. She's still being used. 'Sides, I ain't ever bleeding Niblet, no matter who it brings back. She died. We didn't. End of story. Dead is dead."

"But... what... what if I want you to bleed me and bring her back Spike?" Dawn's voice sounded small against the sharp anger of Spike's.

Spike looked at her, at the hope in her eyes. He hated to disappoint her. But he couldn't. He just couldn't. Part of him was elated, shouting in joy that they could bring her back. All he could see was her face as she told him to watch out for Dawn, to protect her. Trusting him. Then he thought of her face, of what she would think of him if he bled Dawn to bring her back, if he let in the monster in him instead of the man.

"No. I won't. Dawn...I... I won't go back to that. Buffy would..." Spike looked at her, pleading silently for her to understand something he wasn't sure he could explain.

Oblivious to the struggle the vampire was faced with, Dawn saw only the possibility of getting her sister back. If she were back, if she was alive again, then maybe Dawn wouldn't feel so guilty. And if she was, or her blood was, an integral part of what they had to do to get her back, then Dawn could start paying Buffy back for what she had done for her. Looking at Spike, Dawn saw only an obstacle in her way of assuaging the black pit of guilt that had haunted her since that day a year ago.

"But Spike... "

"Dawn, I said NO!" Spike yelled at the teenager, not angry with her, but frustrated in being unable to explain why he couldn't help. Dawn's face crumpled as she fought to hold back tears.

Seeing Dawn's stricken face, Spike cursed himself for being a prat. He hadn't meant to make her cry. He knew how much Buffy meant to her, but Dawn just couldn't see that he couldn't bleed her. Not even to bring Buffy back. Looking around at the others, he saw mirrored in their faces the same emotions he could feel surging through him, trying to get out. Hope, fear, anger, frustration. They were all there, clamouring for him to deal with them. He would, but later, in his own way. But not here. Not in front of them. Never in front of them. Never in front of anyone. Alone. Always alone. It was just the way it was. He had to get out of here. Had to leave now.

"I'm sorry... but no." Spike turned and duster flaring out behind him, he ran out of the Magic shop and out into the night.

********************

Two hours later, they were no closer to a decision. Seeing that it was a school night, Giles suggested they reconvene after classes and school the next day. He would try to find out more information about the Council, the Slayer diaries and the prophecy. 

"And about the knife. We need to find out about Spike as well." Dawn reminded him. 

Surprised she would ask that, after Spike's abrupt departure, Giles just told her he would try. It was easier than arguing with her at this point. Xander asked Giles if he could drop Anya off at his apartment on his way home as he and the witches were going to do a sweep of the cemetery before heading home themselves. Plans made, they trooped out of the shop, separating and going their separate ways after Giles locked up.

The route to the cemetery was far to familiar and it wasn't long before they passed the entrance. Xander sighed as they entered.

"This never gets any less spooky. Actually it was way less spooky when I didn't know so much about things that go bump in the night."

"So that's why you always wanted the light on when you slept over..." Willow grinned.

"You said you would never tell..." mock outrage showed on Xander's features, clearly lit by the light of the half full moon in the clear sky. 

"Sorry, " giggled Willow, sounding anything but sorry.

Their laughter died off as they passed the willow tree standing guard over the familiar grave. Silent again, they walked the usual route through the cemetery. As they approached the sight of Spike's old crypt, Tara pointed it out, and whispered,

"Looks like someone has moved into Spike's old place."

The windows in the mausoleum were squares of flickering light. In the silence of the night, sounds of crashing and voices came from inside. Motioning the two girls to hang back, Xander crept closer to the door. A small triangle of light leaked out where the door hung crookedly on one hinge. Trying his best to time his movements with the sounds coming from inside, Xander managed to get close enough to look in. A bottle went sailing across his line of vision to smash against the wall on the other side. Then a familiar accented was heard in a drunken rant. Slowly backing away from the door, Xander made his way back to the girls. Leaning close to them he whispered, "It's just Spike."

"Spike?" Willow's voice seemed loud, "what is he doing here?"

"He's just upset. Let's just leave him alone."

"Alone? No way. What if he tries to kill himself or something? Remember when..." 

"We're ok, Wills. Spike won't forget his promise to Dawn. He may be annoying, arrogant, and conceited, but he doesn't forget promises."

Willow looked hesitant, not entirely convinced at Xander's reasoning. After another series of resounding crashes and angry yells from within the crypt, she let Xander steer her away.

"Ok, I guess you're right."

Turning from the noisy crypt, they walked out of the cemetery and over to the Sunnydale Campus. At the door to the girls' dorm, Xander gave them both a quick hug and told them he would see them tomorrow. Just as he was leaving, Willow's hand snagged his arm.

" I think you should check in on Spike."

"Me! Why me? I don't even like him that much. Why should I check on him? I thought that we had agreed to just leave him alone. Chances are that he has drunk himself into a nice little stupor and is probably going to pass out before morning."

"Well, he's a guy, you're a guy. Maybe he needs a guy to talk to. He did seem kind of upset when he ran out the building, and the noises coming from the crypt were definitely angry noises... you have to check on him."

"Oh no..., not the resolve face..."

"Oh yeah, I'm resolved on this. Just check on him at least. I'll feel better. He means a lot to Dawn. "

"All right, all right. But I'm not having any chummy heart to hearts with the resident undead."

tbc


	5. Promises Broken

TITLE: Resurgence - Chapter 5: Promises Broken 

TITLE: Resurgence - Chapter 5: Promises Broken  
AUTHOR: Sheri Steeves   
FEEDBACK: Please! Post to list or send e-mail to sheristeeves@hotmail.com  
ARCHIVE: alt.tv.buffy-v-slayer.creative, fanfiction.net   
SPOILERS: Takes place after Season 5 - The Gift.  
RATING: PG  
DISCLAIMER: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy etc own all of this. I was just borrowing to feed my addiction until season 6 starts, but now that season six has started, well, I still gotta finish this.  
SUMMARY: Xander checks on Spike at Willow's insistence. An unlikely conversation takes place and some decisions are made.

"The best place in Sunnydale to stay away from at night, and here I am heading right back towards it. Darn Willow and her resolve face." Xander grumbled out loud as he entered the cemetery for the second time that night. His voice sounded small and scared in the eery silence of the cemetery. The moon that was so bright the first time through the cemetery with the girls was now playing hide and seek behind the ragged stretch of clouds that were slowly moving across the night sky. Candlelight still illuminated the windows of the mausoleum as Xander approached, but now it was as silent as the rest of the graveyard.

Pushing the door open slightly, Xander peeked in. The floor of the crypt was a mess of empty take-out containers, pizza boxes and a mixture of alcohol and beer bottles both whole and broken. Spike's old TV was in middle of the crypt, up-ended and the screen busted out. By the look of the charred frame, it had been used as a fire pit at one point.

"Spike?" Xander stepped inside the crypt. Hearing no response, he pulled a stake out of his back pocket, holding it ready as he took another step forward. The sound of crunching glass was loud in his ears. The candles on the tomb at the back cast shadows that hid more than they revealed. A small sound off to his right caused Xander to take a cautious step back. As he stepped, the click and flare of a lighter startled him so that he brought his foot down on an empty bottle. The bottle promptly flew out from underneath his foot. Windmilling wildly, he managed to keep his balance, but he dropped the stake in the process.

Looking wildly around for his stake, Xander's attention was brought back to the source of the lighter when he heard the mocking clapping coming from that direction. A faint red glow from the lit end of a cigarette was the only other indication that someone was there.

"Very graceful Harris, as usual." The familiar accented sardonic tones flooded Xander with relief, quickly followed by anger.

"Spike. Always an asshole." Pissed off already, Xander kicked through the junk at his feet until he found his stake. Retrieving it, he put it back in his pocket. "I can let Will know her fears were unfounded. I'll just be going now."

"I figured it wasn't concern for me that brought you here. You can report back to Red like a good little puppy. Tell her I'm fine. I'm not staking myself just yet so your prophecy is still safe. That's all you lot care anyhow." The red pinpoint flared brighter as Spike took another drag on the cigarette. 

"Spike, this isn't about the prophecy. This is about you. You missed an opportunity to insult me back there in the shop. You never do that. You stormed out of the shop after _yelling_ at Dawn. Tara, Willow and I heard you in here, throwing things and yelling when we were running a sweep of the cemetery on the way back to campus. Willow wanted me to stop by and check up on you. I couldn't care less what happened to you, but there is a 15 year old kid out there who does."

There was no response from the vampire in the shadows. No whisper of movement, no drag on the cigarette, it was as if he had never spoken at all. Xander shook his head in disgust and turned to go. You couldn't even be nice to the guy. Let him have it his way. Let him have his pity party all to himself. At the door to the mausoleum, Xander saw again the hope fading from Dawn's face as Spike ran out of the shop. He turned back.

"No way! You're not getting off that easy. I do care. I care that you hurt Dawn. You _yelled_ at her Spike, you made her cry. This is her _sister_ we were talking about, the only family she had left. She, at the very least, deserves an explanation of why you won't help. Hell, even after you ran off, she still asked Giles to look into that dagger thing for you." 

Xander waited again for what seemed like an eternity, and still there was no response. That was it. He had tried his best. He made to turn and leave again when Spike spoke.

"I didn't mean to yell at her, I just..." Spike's voice trailed off. There was a different quality to his voice, one Xander had never heard before. A red arc of light fell to the floor and was extinguished with a quick scuff of his boot heel. Spike walked out of the shadows into the dim light of the candles. Xander did a double take. Spike hadn't been angry earlier, he had been crying. Or maybe he was so angry he had had to cry. It was evident in the twin tracks running down the dust on each chiselled cheek. It was evident in the raw pain in his eyes. Xander recognized that pain. It was the same pain he faced in his own eyes every morning in the mirror when he remembered that Buffy was dead. He watched the vampire stalk to a corner near him and rummage through a pile of plastic and paper bags. He came up with a new bottle of whiskey. Cracking the seal and twisting the top off, he took a long swallow. Looking back at Xander he finished his thought.

"What else was I bloody well supposed to do?"

Spike's voice was serious. He was really asking. Xander was quiet a moment, knowing that this was not the time for a flippant answer. "You could have stayed and talked to us."

"Oh right, bare my heart to you lot. Oh that's right... I don't have one." Spike took another drink, grimacing as the harsh liquor burned it's way down his throat.

"Damn it, Spike. You tell at us that you've changed, that you're different. That you want us to accept you as you are now, not as you were. Well, like it or not, you've been a part of the gang since Buffy's death. But as much as you say you want to be accepted, you push us away. You have to give us chance to accept you." Xander felt the silence spread between them as he fell silent. He waited for the usual snappy comeback that always came from Spike. It never came.

"I was always jealous of you lot. You were all so damn... trusting... or loyal or something to each other. Bloody well couldn't figure out what it was. Knew I couldn't have it so I did what I could to destroy it. Fact that it was part of Buffy's strength, and therefore a way to weaken the Slayer was a bonus." Spike paused at this point for another drink, then continued, "Wasn't 'til I was chipped that I began to figure out what made you all so strong. It was your friendship that was more than friendship. You're all your own little family. It was seeing what you had that really made me realize how lonely I was. And I had now idea how to change that. Still don't really. There's too much I've done that can never be forgiven in your eyes, specially since I still can't see what was so bad about most of it. And if you say anything of what I just told you to anyone, I'll rip your tongue out and make you eat it."

Stepping over to Xander, he offered the bottle. The acrid smell made Xander's eyes water. On the verge of refusing, he looked at Spike. A bit of his usual cocky attitude was back but a brief glimmer of loneliness in the vampire's eyes echoed the truth of his previous statement and made Xander change his mind. Taking the bottle, he took a small swig. It was enough. The fiery liquor burned all the way down his throat and then exploded when it hit his stomach, taking with it all oxygen and his ability to breathe.

"Ah! Thas' good stuff.... puts hair on your chest." Spike told Xander as he enthusiastically pounded him on the back.

"Uh huh, oh so hairy vampiric one." Xander wheezed out between coughs and the jarring from Spike's 'help'.

"Looking were you? See anything you like?" Spike grabbed the bottle back and took another long swallow.

"Eeww!" was Xander's only response. A hint of a grin passed over Spike's face at Xander's discomfort then was gone. His face became serious.

"They deserve to die. Every bleedin' one of them. They LET her die."

"I agree that The Council are bastards. But we can bring her back. Whether or not it fits in with their plans or not. If I know Buffy, she still won't be the good little Slayer they think they can get out of this prophecy." Xander shared Spike's feelings. He had never completely trusted The Council. So far they had done more damage than help. The best thing to come out of The Council was Giles.

"But you need me to work the prophecy. I can't do it. I won't." Spike's voice was anguished as he tried to explain. " I promised Buffy I would protect Dawn. How is bleeding her little sis protecting her? She was starting to see... I can't let the monster take control again. I can't break that promise. It's all I have of her. And Niblet... bloody hell, I can't bleed her! Turns my stomach to think of it."

"But what if you loose more of your special vampire powers? You can already stand crosses and sunlight. What if next time you fight another vampire, you suddenly find out that you don't have the strength or the speed of a vampire? What then? How are you going to protect Dawn then?"

Xander's words struck home. He had been trying not to think about that. If he lost anything more it would be back to being just William again. And as just William, there was no way he could keep his promise to Buffy. No way in hell. Grasping at straws, unwilling to admit that Xander might be right. Spike argued that maybe Giles could reverse it. Maybe once they found out more about the dagger then maybe... His words sounded weak even to his own ears. He could recognize denial when he heard it. With a cry of mingled rage and anguish, he flung the bottle of whiskey at the far wall of the mausoleum. 

"Why can't we just leave her alone? Do you really think she would want to come back?" Despite his arguments, Spike knew there was no refusing anymore. The thought of not being able to protect Dawn had brought all his arguments crashing down. The best way to keep his promise to Buffy was to break his promise.

********************

Back at the shop the next afternoon, Spike sat sullenly at the table in the back of the shop. In front of him lay a musty, old book written in what looked like Latin and probably wasn't. His hair was mussed and a plastic mechanical pencil poked out from behind one ear as he chewed on the end of another. The pad of paper in from of him was neatly covered in elegant script. Adding another line of careful script below the others, Spike carefully turned to the next page in the book.

In the front of the shop, Anya was tormenting another customer. Giles was in the back of the shop, on the phone to the council. The door to the shop tinkled in time with the cash register as Anya totalled up the customer's purchases. Looking at the woman's purchases, Spike figured she was buying them just to get out of the store and away from Anya. Willow and Tara entered with Dawn in between them. Dawn was smiling and laughing at something Willow was saying. As they neared the back of the shop, Dawn's smile disappeared when she saw Spike. Throwing her bookbag to the floor behind the counter, she ran into the back of the shop.

Willow thumped her bookbag on the table, making Spike's pencil jump and scratch a line across the previously neat lines of script. Now a black mark marred the symmetry. Sighing Spike lay the pencil down and looked at Willow.

"Red."

"Spike." Willow continued to look at him.

Breaking from her gaze, Spike turned away and looked at the floor, the walls, anything but Willow's face. He mumbled something Willow couldn't quite make out.

"What was that, Spike? I couldn't hear you."

"Bloody hell, what? I gotta yell it out? I didn't mean to run off last night. Just needed some time to deal with things. Happy now?"

"It's cool, Spike. But I'm not the one you should be telling this to."

The sounds of punching floated out from the back. With a nod to Willow, Spike gracefully unfolded himself from the chair and headed towards the back room.

Her back to him, Dawn did not notice Spike standing in the doorway. Wearing a tank top and sweats, with her hair up in a no-nonsense ponytail, she looked like a brunette Buffy as she pummelled the punching bag for all she was worth.

"Dawn."

She couldn't hear him. More likely she was ignoring him. Shrugging out of his duster and laying it over a chair, Spike walked up behind her and called her name again. When he still got no response, he reached out and grasped her shoulder and he said her name a third time. 

Dawn whirled around and exchanged Spike for the punching bag. Backing up and blocking the flurry of punches now directed at him, Spike could see the anger and the hurt in her eyes.

"Dawn, stop this." Spike continued to block her punches, being careful not to hurt her in the process. As she threw punches she yelled at him. 

"I'm not listening to you anymore. Selfish bastard! Why won't you help us? We could bring her back! We need your help and you're being an asshole! I wish you had died instead of Buffy!"

At this, Spike managed to catch each of her fists in each of his hands, effectively stopping the flurry of punches. Standing there, trapped, breathing hard, Dawn glared at him then tried to kick him. Expecting that move, Spike moved back when she started to kick, bringing Dawn to her knees as she overbalanced. Still holding a hand in each of his own he went to his knees in front of her so that they were face to face.

"I wish I HAD died instead of her too! You can't begin to imagine how much I wish that. But I'm goin' to help. I'm in, OK?"

"What made you change your mind?" Dawn looked suspiciously at him.

"Does it matter?"

"Yeah."

"It's hard to explain, Niblet."

"Try, Spike."

Spike sighed. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately, this sighing and explaining himself to others. Looking down at their joined hands, he tried to explain so she would understand.

"It was just a lot of stuff yesterday. The whole sunlight thing, the prophecy... that we could bring her back... that the council let her die. That _I _was a part of this whole prophecy. I just needed time to deal."

"But why didn't you just talk to us?"

Everyone is asking me that, Spike thought. What am I, another spill-your-guts-to-everyone Xander? Looking at Dawn now, he explained. "Pet, I've been alone for a long time now. Not a lot of soul-searching when you don't have one. I'm used to dealing with things by myself. Sometimes it's hard for me to remember that it's not just me anymore."

Dawn nodded at his explanation and asked, "So, you really going to help?"

"Yeah, I want her back as much as the rest of you. Are we done with the Spike-as-a-punching- bag?

Dawn's face lit up in a big grin that took over her whole face. As soon as Spike let go of her hands, she launched herself at him, wrapping him in a bear hug that almost knocked him over.

"Thank you, thank you."

Awkwardly, Spike returned Dawn's embrace, then pulled away slightly. Getting the hint, Dawn let go, then grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet as she headed out of the exercise room.

"C'mon then, we got research to do."

Entering the main part of the shop, they saw Giles standing with the rest of the gang at the table. Hurrying over, they were in time to hear Willow asking Giles what he had been able to find out from the Council.

"Well, they have confirmed that the prophecy is real, and they are quite interested in how we obtained a copy. They made no mention of the diaries, nor do they know we have them. However, they have not managed to decipher the prophecy, and would appreciate any help we could give them."

At this Spike looked at the Watcher. " Tell me you didn't tell 'em we figured it out."

"No, Spike, they don't know about you."

"S'not what I meant Watcher. They're the reason she died. Don't see why we should help 'em bring 'er back s'all. I'm all for bringin' 'er back ourselves."

Giles looked around the table at the rest. They were all nodding in agreement with Spike. Facing them, he answered. "We all agree. We're going to try to bring her back." 

tbc


	6. Selfish Choice

TITLE: Resurgence - Chapter 6: Selfish Choice 

TITLE: Resurgence - Chapter 6: Selfish Choice  
AUTHOR: Sheri Steeves  
FEEDBACK: Please! Post to list or send e-mail to sheristeeves@hotmail.com  
ARCHIVE: alt.tv.buffy-v-slayer.creative, fanfiction.net   
SPOILERS: Takes place after Season 5 - The Gift.  
RATING: PG  
DISCLAIMER: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy etc own all of this. I was just borrowing to feed my addiction until season 6 started, but now I'm too interested in seeing where this leads me to stop.

SUMMARY: In my world, it has been a year since Buffy jumped into the portal. So where has Buffy been all this time? 

At first there was nothing.

No light, no dark.

No up, no down.

No colour, no form.

No life, no death.

Death.

A memory danced on the outside of her consciousness. Knowing it would bring pain she let it slip away. This was better. This was safety, warmth, peace. She floated in endless moments of meaningless time.

Sound intruded. A low murmur of indistinct sound teased the edges of her consciousness. She fought it, willed it to go away. She didn't want to hear, didn't want to be. She didn't want to do anything but stay here where it was safe. The volume increased so slowly she never noticed when the sounds became words that she could no longer ignore. The words came from separate voices mingled together, the tones lowering and raising as they spoke. The words themselves were drawn out and slow, like a record played at the wrong speed. 

"Awaken child." "Come to us."  
"Become!"

At the last word all the memories that had been held at bay came rushing back. She saw a redheaded girl and a dark-haired boy laughing together and knew them as friends. She saw a young dark-haired girl with an older woman and knew them as sister and mother. She saw an older man in tweed and glasses and knew him as mentor and father figure. She saw a tall, dark-haired man and knew him as lover and enemy and friend. She saw a bleached blond man and knew him as enemy and friend. She saw horrible monsters and huge battles. She saw the dark-haired man impaled on a sword and knew she was the one holding the sword. The images came faster. She saw the redhead mouth arcane words and fling monsters away, the boy trying to fight demons and getting hurt, the man in tweed rifling through stacks of old books. She saw the blond man fighting and knew it was herself he was fighting. Then she saw him fighting demons with her. She saw her mother lying dead on the couch, her sister falling to her knees in grief in front of her, and the redhead helping another girl who looked out with vacant eyes. She saw her sister standing at the end of a platform, bound and bleeding, a tear in the sky behind her, crackling with lightning and power. Lastly she saw herself jump into the tear. And then she knew.

Knew who she was.  
Buffy Summers.

And what she was.   
Vampire Slayer.

And why she was here.   
She had died.

"Why can't I see?" 

"Some waken more slowly. It takes longer to see."

The nothingness around her slowly faded, giving way to light and shadow, forms and colours. She found herself in a wooded clearing. Light slanted down warmly between the tall pines that surrounded her. The air was warm and she could smell grass and wild flowers, with a tangy undertone of pine. Dust motes and insects floated in the sunbeams. Nearby a stream chuckled merrily to itself as it wound its course. The surrounding trees marched away into darkness, straight and orderly as soldiers at attention.

"She is beginning to see."

The voice came from no one she could see. It came from all directions, at once around her and through her. Turning slowly in a circle she asked, "Who are you? Where am I? Is this heaven?"

"We are... the sentinels."   
"Some would call this heaven..."   
"This could be Heaven...yes."

"I thought heaven would be all clouds and harps and white robes with fluffy wings."

"Some would call this hell."   
" ...yes, this could be hell also." 

"Huh? Ok, I'm lost. How can this be heaven and hell at the same time?"

"This place can be either Heaven..."   
"... or Hell. It depends on the soul. The soul..."   
"...it decides."

"So this is my heaven then?"

"No, " the voices answered together, as one. There was a finality in that answer that stunned Buffy. Not Heaven? What did they mean, this wasn't Heaven? Why wasn't it? Shock gave way to anger.

"NO! What do you mean this isn't Heaven! I don't get Heaven?" 

"This ... Heaven... is not for you."   
"It is not your time... not yet."   
"... your time will come... one day."

"But ... but death was my gift. I was supposed to die."

"Death IS your gift... you are the Slayer. Death..."   
"... is a part of who you are. Your death..."   
"...was not sacrifice. It was selfish."

"Selfish! Suddenly I'm selfish now! I didn't want Dawn to die! She's just a kid. She deserved a chance at a normal life, the life I didn't get to have. How is that selfish?" 

"Selfish choice...choosing death...running from the pain..."   
"...running from choices... you chose death over facing the pain..."   
"Left the others to bear the pain... of loss"

"Like I never had to bear any pain? I sent the man I love to hell to save the world. How many apocalypses did I have to prevent? How many times was I forced to choose slaying over having a regular life? I'm tired of having to choose. I'm tired of slaying." Buffy's voice rose. All her frustrations, all the difficulties she had faced, Riley, her mother, Dawn, Glory, all the anger came out with her words.

"The strongest.... their path is always hard..."   
"... a harder path has the greater reward..."   
"hard, yes...harder without friends..."   


"...friends are your strength...even now then come for you."

"Coming for me? What do mean they are coming for me? There is no coming for me. I'm dead! I've had enough of being the Slayer. I can't do it anymore. I don't WANT to do it anymore. DEATH WAS MY GIFT. WAS. Emphasise on the past tense. I'm not going anywhere." With that final statement, Buffy sat down in the middle if the glade. No way was she leaving.

"I'm still here and I'm not leaving! Do you hear that?" Fists clenched, Buffy scanned the cerulean blue sky above her as she yelled. There was no answer. The voices were silent. The glade suddenly felt empty, cold despite the sunshine. Then she heard a single voice.

"Dey told you. Your friends are a-coming for you. Even now I can feel dem gathering, feel da threads coming togedder, gettin' stronger."

The voice came from behind her. Buffy jumped to her feet and whirled around to see a familiar figure sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of a small fire.

"Kendra?"

"Buffy. Sit."

"I... I don't understand." It was more a statement than a question. Buffy dropped to the ground again on the other side of the small blaze. Looking at the fire she noticed that it was burning brightly despite the fact that there was no wood under the flame. She thought vaguely that she should have been surprised, but then after five years as a Slayer on the Hellmouth, nothing much surprised her anymore.

"You are strong. Stronger dan I. Your strength dey are, your friends."

"Yeah, yeah, the voices already told me that. " Buffy interrupted Kendra. " I want to know why I don't get to go to Heaven. Why am I stuck here?"

Kendra looked over the flames at Buffy. Her eyes looked older than Buffy remembered; they reflecting knowledge the girl hadn't had when she had was alive. "You are not stuck. You will soon leave dis place."

"But why don't I get Heaven, why can't I just stop? I'm tired." 

Kendra eyes reflected sadness, inevitability, and wisdom. "You will get Heaven, just not now. It is not your time. You were not meant to die in the portal..."

"What, I was just supposed to LET Dawn die? How much do these people or powers or whatever they are think I can take? How much do I have to go through?" Buffy interjected, anger spilling out again. 

"Dawn would not have died."

Buffy's anger increased, mixed with confusion. They had all read the information The Council had given them. Everything they had read had pointed to protecting The Key, and to the fact that if Glory started the ritual, Dawn would have to die to stop it."

"I...I don't understand..." 

"Da Key is living energy. Channel it into a specific place and time and it breaks down da walls between dimensions. When it stops, da walls come back up. But da Key was never human before. Da monks changed tings when they made da Key human. Now da Key's energy is blood. Blood can be regenerated. Dat is what makes Dawn so dangerous. Dat is why she must be protected. Da Key can still be killed or destroyed in whatever form it is given, but it can also still be used to pass between dimensions." 

"But the ritual said that when the blood flows, the gates will open. The gates will close when it flows no more..." Buffy paused, trying to get this straight. "So Dawn can be killed as she is, but if Glory had opened the portal, she wouldn't have died."

"Maybe. Maybe not. As long as her blood flow into dat space, da gates would stay open. Remove her from over dat space and da energy would be gone and da gates would close."

"But I closed the portal when I jumped."

"No. Da portal was closing anyway. You had moved da Key away from da portal. It's energy was no longer keeping it open. Your life energy disrupted the ritual and closed da portal. Wit all your energy gone, your soul it end up here, and your body end up back in it's own dimension."

Buffy was stunned. They had been so wrong. They were never wrong, never this wrong anyway. Everything she had done, all she had based her decision on, it was all just... wrong. Looking at Kendra, she voiced the questions in her head, "We were so wrong. How could we be so wrong?"

"Was not your fault. Was information kept from you."

"Kept from me?"'

"Yes. And now you must go back."

Anger surged again. When would they get it? Would they ever let her be? Buffy looked at Kendra for a long moment then spoke in a low voice.

"I DON'T want to go back. I'm tired. I'm tired of Slaying. I'm tired of the demands. Tired of sacrificing so much of my life for this. Every time I think that they can't ask of more from me, they do. I died trying to kill the master, I had to kill Angel, sacrificed part of my high school class because of the Mayor, then Angel leaving, and Glory, and Riley leaving, and Dawn and my mom...there is only so much of me to give. I don't want to be the Slayer anymore." The tears were running freely by now. Buffy wiped her eyes on her sleeve. When she looked up, Kendra was gone. So was the fire.

"Kendra?"

"Buffy."

Buffy stood up and turned around slowly, almost not daring to trust what she was hearing. Staring, drinking in the sight of the woman in front if her, she stood rooted to the spot. Then the woman held her arms out to her. With a choked cry she ran to her mother.

"Mom! Oh god, I missed you."

Joyce hugged he daughter back as fiercely as she could, thanking the powers for giving her this last chance to say good-bye to her daughter. She could have gone on hugging her forever, but she knew their time was limited, and there were things she had to tell her. Drawing her daughter out of her embrace, she smoothed back her hair and wiped the tears from her face as she had when Buffy was little. 

"I missed you too, Buffy."

"I'm so sorry I wasn't there... maybe I could have..."

"Buffy, stop. There was nothing you could have done. It was my time. Nothing you could have done would have changed that. Whether you were there or not."

"I just wish that..."

"I wish too. Just remember how much I love you and Dawn, and how proud I am of you both. Don't ever forget that."

"I won't."

'I'm supposed to tell you that you have to go back."

"I don't want to go back. " Buffy paused, looking briefly at the ground, then looked back at her mother. " Mom, I don't want to be the Slayer anymore. Can't I stay here with you?"

"Oh, honey, it's just not your time. I know it's been hard. There are things that you have gone through that I can't begin to imagine how painful they were for you. But that doesn't change who you are. And the Slayer is a part of who you are. Imagine what it would be like if you weren't the Slayer."

"That would be nice." Buffy smiled at the thought.

"Would it? Would it really? Think about it. We may not have moved Sunnydale. There would be no Mr. Giles, no Willow and no Xander. Also no Angel or Riley. Dawn would not be your sister. Dawn would not even exist. And I would still be dead. It was my time. That wouldn't change whether you were the Slayer or not. You would be alone."

Buffy's face grew serious as she thought of what her mother had said. 

"Honey, you are strong. And you can be stronger still. Things have been hard lately. You've had to make a lot of tough choices. But by choosing to sacrifice yourself, you threw away that which makes you the strongest - your family and friends. They are your greatest strength. They are the reason you fight, and fight so hard. Vampires and demons are no match for that."

"But Mom, I'm tired of fighting. The fight gets harder and harder to win each time. With everything in my life, it seems likes sometimes there isn't enough of me to be the Slayer, and sister, and friend and whatever else I have to be."

"That's where you are going wrong. Stop dividing yourself. You can't be Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and Buffy the Best Friend and Buffy the Older Sister, but you can be Buffy, who is a Vampire Slayer with some really great friends and a younger sister. You are either all or none. You have to accept that being the Slayer is fully a part of who you are. It is a part of your life and not just something you do after the sun sets. There is a darkness inside of you, Buffy, the death that is your gift. You have to accept this darkness as a part of you, as much as your love and loyalty to your friends and family is a part of you. Your powers as a Slayer are rooted in the same evil that creates that which you slay. Accept the good and bad in you, just as there is both good and evil in the world. You cannot have one without the other. Each is but one half of the whole. Rely only on one and you are only half as powerful as you could be. Rely on them both, and from that balance of good and evil will come your greatest strength."

Suddenly, Joyce began to fade away, getting more and more insubstantial as Buffy watched. 

"Mom! Don't go! Come back!"

"They are here for you. Your friends are here. I can feel them. I love you. Tell Dawn how much I love her and remember what told you..." Joyce was barely visible by now. The forest glade as well was slowly blurring and getting less distinct as the sun overhead seemed to draw closer and closer.

"Mom! I love you!" Buffy yelled out as her mother vanished from her sight. The light was almost blinding now and directly overhead. As she tried to shield her eyes, it reached down and swallowed her.

tbc.


	7. Second Coming

TITLE: Resurgence - Chapter 7: Second Coming 

TITLE: Resurgence - Chapter 7: Second Coming  
AUTHOR: Sheri Steeves   
FEEDBACK: Please! Post to list or send e-mail to sheristeeves@hotmail.com  
ARCHIVE: alt.tv.buffy-v-slayer.creative, fanfiction.net   
SPOILERS: Takes place after Season 5 - The Gift.  
RATING: PG  
DISCLAIMER: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy etc own all of this. I was just borrowing to feed my addiction until season 6 starts, but now that season six has started, well, I still gotta finish this.  
SUMMARY: Decisions made, the gang use the prophecy to raise Buffy.

The sun wasn't even over the horizon yet when Xander walked into the kitchen of the Summers' residence. Despite knowing what they were going to try to do today, or most likely because of it, he hadn't been able to sleep. They had researched far into the night. Giles had found some more connections from the Slayer Diaries, and Anya had found a reference in another of Giles' old books. Willow, Tara and Dawn had researched the illusion spell they were going to use today so that he and Giles could exhume Buffy's body. He, as usual, had been errand boy. It was a sad day when you knew all the night shift workers at the local 24-hour donut shops by name. Walking over to the back door, Xander looked out, checking the weather. The reports had been for a clear, sunny day but you could never trust what the weatherman said. Especially when you live by the Hellmouth. Pulling the blind aside, he saw a grey sky, tinged with pink in the east. A few stars were still visible in the west, and a line of grey, wispy clouds hung in the air. And in front of him, sitting on the back porch, was a familiar black-clad figure with bleach blond hair. The hair was mussed and bits of leaf and twig were stuck to it.

Quietly opening the door, Xander walked out and sat next to Spike.

"Tough night?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle."

Xander looked to his left at the vampire. There was blood smeared on one side of Spike's face, and the knuckles of his right hand were scratched and bleeding. His duster had blood-of-something smeared down one side.

"You just getting back?"

"Nah. I've been here a while." Spike didn't really want to tell Xander that he hadn't had the energy to go inside when he had returned an hour earlier. "Thought I would watch the sun rise. I haven't done that in about a century or so. Might be nice."

"Must be weird, suddenly not being flame-boy during the day."

"Takes some gettin' used to."

There was silence for a while as the two sat side by side, each lost in their own thoughts, both contemplating the day ahead of them. The light to the east got brighter. The last stars in the west winked out. The clouds turned pink from the sun's rays at it slowly breached the horizon. 

"I'll leave you to your sunrise. The others should be up soon." Xander got up to go back in the house, thinking Spike might want to be alone. Spike's voice surprised him.

"Wait."

Xander paused. Spike was sill sitting on the porch, back to him. He couldn't see his face, but from the angle of his head, he was staring directly at the rising sun, now halfway over the horizon now. Its rays gilded the tops of the trees and slowly crept across the lawn toward the pair on the porch. When Spike spoke, his voice was low and serious.

"I want you with me when I bleed Niblet today. I... I need someone to watch over her. Make sure I don't hurt her."

"You won't hurt her Spike..."

A sharp laugh cut the morning air as Spike answered, "Bloody well never thought I'd hear YOU say that." His words came slow as he tried to explain. "I know I'm chipped so I can't hurt her, but... she's so all for it... so trusting... I don't know if the chip will even fire. It's just the... demon, the vamp in me... it's been so long since I've fed... I don't know if I can trust myself to stop."

"I'll watch." 

"Keep a stake handy."

"I will."

The sunlight had crept up the stairs and reached the vampire. The black duster seemed to soak up the light, while the morning rays painted the side of his pale face in yellows and gold. His hair shone bright white in the sun. Xander left Spike alone and returned to the house.

The coffee had just finished brewing when Spike entered the kitchen. The island in the middle was covered with books and papers. Interspersed among the books were bunches of herbs and vials of powder. From the looks of the table he gathered it had been a major research night. The empty cappuccino cups and donut box from the coffee shop confirmed his thought. Spike limped over to the island and sat on a stool. Lifting his leg up on the stool next to him, and pulling up his pant leg, he saw the massive swelling and bruised flesh on his shin and knew that the reverse side kick the demon had connected with had done more than connect. Spike swore as he prodded the swelling, trying to determine if the bone was broken. 

Hearing Spike swear Xander turned around and saw the injured vampire gritting his teeth as he awkwardly poked at his leg. Seeing the swelling and bruising, Xander knew it was probably broken.

"Wait... It looks broken. I'll help you set that."

"Hurry it up, this hurts like bleedin' hell." Spike watched Xander's back as he messed with the microwave, then he turned back to the scattered contents of the table. Spying the donut box again, he reached out and dragged it towards himself. Feeling the slight weight of the box even before it was close enough to look in, he knew it was empty. "Bloody wankers ate all the goodies." he grumbled just loud enough for Xander to hear over the finishing beep of the microwave.

Xander grabbed a mug out of the microwave, and walking around the island he placed it in front of Spike saying, "You can't have any donuts, you're too dead."

Surprised and a bit taken back at the unexpected kindness, Spike would have died before he let Xander know that. Taking a welcome swallow of the blood, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and asked, " What? No Wheatabix?"

Xander shuddered. Blood and Wheatabix were two words that should never used together in the same sentence, in his opinion. Looking at the injury, he told Spike they were either going to have to remove his pants or cut them to set the bone.

"I knew you always wanted me naked." Spike quipped, dragging in an unneeded breath in pain as he shifted on the stool and jarred his leg.

With a look of disgust, Xander grabbed the mug from Spike's hand. 

"Hey, gimme that! I need that!" 

"Keep your voice down, the others are still sleeping. Are you going to behave?" Xander kept the mug just out of reach. Spike growled but Xander merely moved the mug further away.

"All right. All right. Gimme the blood and help me outta these pants. Don't want to cut them."

Xander handed Spike the mug, which Spike quickly drained and set on the table. Nodding to Xander, he stood up, balanced on his good leg as he pulled his pants down over his hips. That done, he sat back on the stool, gripping the side of the counter as Xander tugged the tight denim down. He gritted his teeth but a small moan still escaped as Xander pulled the denim down over the broken bone and tossed the pants aside. 

"Bloody hell, you ham-fisted carpenter! You sure you know what you're doing?"

"Hey, I could let you try and set this yourself, deadboy. And as it happens, yes, I do know what I'm doing. Picked it up as part of the military training that Halloween. That and the first aid course I had to take on the construction site." Xander looked at Spike.

"All right, jus' do it and get it over with." Spike relented ungraciously.

Xander gripped Spike's ankle and got ready to set the bone. Looking up at him, he asked, "Ready?"

Spike's mouth hardened and he nodded. Xander pulled and the pain flared through his leg and pulsed through his body in a white-hot wave as the bone was reset. Spike's loud gasp of pain echoed through the room. A wave of dizziness threatened to unbalance him off the stool, but Xander caught him and propped him against the island. He leaned there motionless in a haze of pain until another mug was set in front of him. The iron tang of blood was mixed with the woodsy, smoky flavour of whiskey. Spike drained the contents in one long swallow. The pain was starting to recede. It was good to know that at least his healing abilities were not gone. Staggering slightly, he started towards the stairs to the basement. Sleep was what he needed most. With luck his leg would be mostly healed by the time came to go to the cemetery. 

"You get down there okay?" Xander watched as Spike tried to negotiate the door and the stairs on one leg.

"I'm hurt, not crippled, " Spike answered with an impatient growl. A few thumps told Xander that he was making his way down the stairs. Then his voice floated back up.

"Harris?"

Xander walked over to the basement door and leaned around the casement.

"Yeah?"

"You did know what you were doing. Thanks."

********************

Favouring his injured leg, Spike leaned against the trunk of the willow tree that stood guard over Buffy's grave. It was a familiar place to him. Most nights since her death he always seemed to end up here. Even when he promised himself he would be strong and not go, he always went. Went there to talk to her, to tell her he missed her, shared with her what Dawn had done that day. Today was it was different. For one thing, it was day. Almost noon to be exact. Looking out from the sun-dappled shade he waited for the others to arrive. He still wasn't used to not bursting in flame every time the sun hit his pale flesh. The sunrise this morning had been... amazing. He had forgotten the beauty in the birth of a new day, the feeling of untapped promise, of boundless possibilities. It had been a good omen for what they were about to attempt.

He watched them come over the slight rise, threading their way through the gravestones and monuments. The witches were hand in hand, as were Anya and Xander. Xander carried two shovels in his free hand. Giles was still leafing through a book, the prophecies held tightly in one hand as the other flipped pages. Dawn seriticiously guided him around the gravestone he was about to trip over.

Joining him under the willow tree, Dawn immediately came over to him. He could smell her - a mix of nervousness and excitement with a small tang of fear threaded through. Looking carefully at her, he noticed the smiley face Band-Aid on the inside of her right elbow.

"What's with the bandage, pet?"

"This? Oh, some blood donor awareness thing at school this morning. We're all to young to donate, but they took sample from all of us and one of the teachers gave blood to show us what they do. Hey, and we got these cool cards with our blood types on 'em!" Dawn started digging in her back pocket for the card.

"S'ok, show me later. Right now I need to talk to you about this prophecy thing."

Dawn's face grew wary as she regarded the seriousness of Spike's expression. "You had better not be telling me you're backing out, not after you gave your word that you were going to help."

"No. I'm still with you. Just need to talk about me bleedin' you is all."

"Well, just do what you normally do. Bite me in the neck." Dawn just looked at him, eyes innocent and trusting. She had no idea what the bite meant when it wasn't used to drain and kill the victim. Spike sighed and looked out at the others just out of earshot. Giles and Xander were just starting to dig, while Willow, Tara and Anya were chanting and burning herbs to maintain the illusion of Buffy's gravesite being undisturbed. 

"There's a lot more to it than that. Biting to feed, to drain and kill, that's just what we do to survive. But when we don't drain the victim, there is more meaning to that. Especially when a bite on the neck, so close to the jugular. We call it the heart vein. That bite marks you. Marks you as belonging to the one who bit you. Other vamps recognize that you're marked. Some would leave you alone, and some would make you a target. That's why I can't bite you there."

"I don't see anything wrong with belonging to you..."

"It's more than just belonging. It's can be like mated, and there's a sexual side to it too."

"Oh" Dawn's voice was quiet, understanding now some of Spike's earlier reluctance. 

"So, I brought a cup, mebbe we could let some blood in that and do it that way."

'"No." Dawn's voice was firm, final. "That's too easy. It just feels wrong to do it that way. Like we're cheating. Can't you bite me somewhere else?"

"I don't want to bite you at all. I don't trust..."

"But I trust you, Spike. And we need to do this. We need to bring Buffy back. I need her back." Looking down at herself, Dawn saw the smiley face Band-Aid. "What about my wrist? Veins are close to the surface there. I learned that today in school."

Spike looked at Dawn. Her face was decided. She was a stubborn as her sister, a trait he had learned all to well in the past year as a part of the Summers' residence. Sighing again, he nodded. It was clear that there would be no changing her mind. Thankfully, he had Xander as his backup in case anything went wrong.

The hanging branches rustled as a very muddy Xander pushed them aside and entered the dim green coolness under the willow. Looking at the two of them he said, "It's time."

Spike turned back to Dawn. She looked back at him. Eyes wide and trusting, a little scared and nervous but determined all the same. The absolute trust shining out of those eyes as she raised her wrist to him nearly proved his undoing. All the doubts clamoured to the surface of his mind, jockeying each other for position. What if he couldn't stop? What if the chip wouldn't let him? What if his ability to withstand sunlight left as soon as it came? What if...

"Spike."

Xander's voice broke in. Looking at him, Spike watched him move just enough to show him the stake he had in the waistband of his jeans, hidden from Dawn's eyes by his shirt. With a nod, Spike kneeled in from of Dawn. Letting the vampire come to the fore, his face changing, eyes yellowing, fangs pressing against his mouth, he waited for a reaction from Dawn. Her eyes had widened as she watched him change, and he realized this was the first time she had ever seen what he really was. Despite this, her arm never moved as she waited for him to feed. His yellow eyes locked with her blue ones and his cool hands grasped her warm arm. He could feel the thrum of her blood as it rushed through her veins. Keeping his eyes locked with hers, he brought her wrist to his mouth and bit.

The world narrowed to the blue eyes locked with his and the blood pulsing over his tongue and down his throat. There was no answering jolt from the chip. Dawn was letting him feed willingly, as he had known she would. Her blood flooded him. Key's blood. Energy. It was indescribable. It was elixir, manna, Sire's blood, Slayer's blood, lightning in his veins. There was a roaring in his ears and he realized that it was the rush of her blood through his undead body. He couldn't get enough. He drank. And drank. Then a small voice intruded. Dawn's voice, weak. Spike felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, could smell Xander's scent. With a roar, he pulled away when the demon inside was screaming at him to drain her, to drink it all. Looking around, the trees were etched in sharp relief, every colour standing out vividly. The sky was a thousand shades of blue, the grass every colour of green. Dawn's face, pale now, swam in front of him as he fought the pull of her blood.

Struggling up from his knees, he staggered out into the sunlight, involuntarily flinching and hiding his face from sun's warmth. Behind him, Xander guided him over to where they had lay Buffy's exhumed body.

Her corpse was horrible to look at. He had seen lots of corpses before, but knowing the life that had been in this body made it all the more terrible. The blood surged in his veins and for a moment he saw Buffy, as she had been, lying in front of him. The surge receded and he was left staring at the corpse. As he stared, it happened again. Landing on his knees awkwardly in front of her, his injured leg balking, he whispered her name, brushed her hair away from her face. A sob passed through him. Raising his own wrist to his mouth, his skin warm from the blood, he tore jagged tear down a vein and held his dripping arm over her mouth. He watched as the blood dripped, red against the grey of the corpse, and then red against the pallor of her skin. The blood disappeared, absorbed. The key's blood surged through him, slower and slower as he let it out. The loss of its energy was painful in itself. At some point, he didn't notice when, it was the corpse he saw at the height of the surge and her face he saw as it receded. Then it was only her face he saw, pale as the red drops continued to fall and be absorbed. The colour was returning to her pale cheeks as he watched.

A wave of weakness slammed into Spike as the last of the blood dripped out. He would have fallen over except Dawn held him up on one side and Xander on the other.

The last drop of blood disappeared. For an endless moment, there was nothing. Spike began to think they had been wrong, that he wasn't part of the prophecy after all. Then her eyes snapped open as she drew her first painful breath. And another. Her eyes stared wildly around her and she continued to breathe, each one coming a little easier than the last. At last her eyes focused on the faces circled around her. They jumped from face to face, going from Xander's to Anya, Willow and Tara, Giles, then Dawn and lastly to Spike's vamped out visage as he kneeled over her. Her eyes flickered from Dawn's arm, bite marks still oozing blood, to Spike's bloodstained mouth and bloody wrist.

Spike's yellow eyes met hers, watched as they focused on him, really saw him. In her eyes he saw anger and disappointment. The anger in her eyes hurt. But the disappointment hurt even more. He had fooled himself into thinking that this wouldn't happen. Deep down inside though, he had known, and chosen to ignore that he knew. Spike found the strength to get up. He had broken his promise. She had trusted him and he had betrayed that trust. 

"I'm sorry..." he choked out, throwing off Xander and Dawn's restraining hands and stumbling away. He made his way across the graveyard, a black shadow of grief. Dawn moved to go after him, torn between Spike's pain and her sister. Xander held her back.

"No, let him go. I think he needs to be alone." 

Dawn watched the retreating black figure for a moment, then turned back to help her sister.

tbc


	8. Score To Settle

TITLE: Resurgence - Chapter 8: Score To Settle  
  
AUTHOR: Sheri Steeves  
  
FEEDBACK: Please! Post to list or send e-mail to sheristeeves at hotmail dot com. You know what to replace with what.  
  
ARCHIVE: alt.tv.buffy-v-slayer.creative, fanfiction.net  
  
SPOILERS: Takes place after Season 5 - The Gift. Sort of AU.  
  
RATING: PG  
  
DISCLAIMER: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy etc own all of this. I just want to borrow them for a while.  
  
SUMMARY: Giles and Spike start to deal with the return of the Slayer, there are others out there interested in the Prophecy, and Giles makes a startling discovery.  
  
Giles watched the black-clad vampire walk off and sighed wearily. Coming to the graveyard today had been the second hardest thing he had ever done. Harder then the Cruciamentum. Harder then killing Ben. Only his anger at the manipulation and duplicity of the council had given him the strength to come here today, a place he had avoided since her funeral a year ago.  
  
He had watched as Dawn had held her arm out to the vampire, complete trust apparent in her young face. Giles knew that despite the reasons he may have told the others, he was really doing this for himself. He wanted Buffy back. What was a Watcher without a Slayer to watch? He had watched Xander pull Spike off of Dawn and send the vampire walking drunkenly over to the coffin lying next to the exhumed grave. And he saw. Saw the yellow of his eyes glow in the sunlight, saw how Spike literally pulsed with energy, saw how his eyes were staring at the world as if he had never seen it before. The little kernel inside of Giles that still was and would forever be a Watcher made a mental note to ask Spike about how this had felt. A shudder had passed through the vampire as he lifted his own wrist to his mouth and bit deep. He hadn't been able to avoid it then. Couldn't avoid seeing Buffy's lifeless corpse as he watched the blood drip in shimmering, ruby red jewels from Spike's wrist. Watched as the blood was absorbed and life returned to his Slayer. As the last drop of blood had been let, a painful gasp had came from the vampire and he had slumped back, held up by Dawn and Xander on either side of him. His features had morphed back into that of a man, his pallor even more pronounced in the sunlight.  
  
And nothing had happened. It had looked like Buffy lying there in the coffin. But it wasn't. The life, the spark was missing. No, Giles had thought. Raising her wasn't the hardest thing to do. Trying to raise her and failing was. Getting our hopes up only to have them dashed. Dawn had looked even more lost than when they had first lost Buffy. He should never have told the rest of them, should never have trusted the information from The Council, he should have left her to her peace, should have...  
  
A ragged breath had broken the silence. Looking down, he had seen her chest move and her eyes snap open. Confused eyes, wide and staring, searching the faces surrounding her. Another ragged breath had followed the first, then another. Recognition had dawned slowly, followed by anger and disappointment. Giles had watched her eyes flick between the vampire and her sister, then back to Spike. The vampire stiffened and Giles had wondered what Spike saw in her eyes that he didn't. Did he think that anger was directed at him? He heard Spike's voice, then the vampire had pushed himself to his feet and lurched away as Giles had watched.  
  
Yes, this was the hardest thing he had ever done, he thought as he turned his attention back to the girl lying confused in the coffin. His Slayer. Vibrant. Alive. Of all of them, he was the only one who really understood the implications of cheating death, of the magnitudes of power it took to change the order of things. And the use of power of any amount was never without it's price. Ever.  
  
Her mouth moved, the words coming slowly, haltingly.  
  
"Where..."  
  
"You're alive, Buffy." Dawn spoke before the others.  
  
Buffy looked over at Dawn, and then around her, seeing the white satin and the wood trim. Her eyes sought those of her Watcher.  
  
"I'm... I'm still in... Oh god... get me out... out of here..."  
  
Realizing what she was saying, Giles reached over and started to help her out. Frantically, Buffy pushed at the sides of the coffin, arms and legs flailing wildly as she panicked against the claustrophobic confines of the coffin. Once free she lost all strength. Giles held her as he let her down on the ground beside the grave. Her eyes roamed everywhere, resting on each of them briefly before dancing off to look at other gravestones. But always they returned, as if drawn against her will to her gravestone, and her gravesite with its mound of dirt and empty coffin. A shudder went through her and she tried to push herself to her feet. Dawn stepped in to help. Buffy grabbed on to her sister, her legs barely holding her up. Looking at the others, she simply said, "Take me home."  
  
********************  
  
The loud thump of the music reverberated through the floor and the walls of The Bronze. It even made the dust and smoke in the air shimmer. The band on the stage was trying to make up for their lack of talent with an increase of base. It wasn't working. As bad as it was and as loud as it was though, it couldn't drown out the thoughts in Spike's head. Nothing could stop his thoughts from returning to her. The dance floor was crowded with people gyrating on the dance floor, their scent a mixture of sweat and sex and the pulse of overheated blood. He barely noticed them. The number of empty glasses on the small table in front of him and the fact that he was still thinking of her was testimony that alcohol was not working either.  
  
It was bloody torture for him to come here. It was like going to an all- you-can-eat buffet when you couldn't have anything on the menu. At least they served him here though. At Willy's he usually got thrown out, beaten up, or both. That's not to say that he never fought back - he did. But there was the crux of the bloody problem. His was fighting against his own kind. With a sigh, Spike slouched in his chair and drained the last of the beer in the glass. Not accepted by his kind. The Scoobies still didn't really accept him. Buffy certainly didn't accept him. Not if the anger directed at him had been anything to go by. Why should she be angry at him? Why was he always at fault.  
  
This whole raise Buffy from the dead with the prophecy had been the Scoobies' idea, not his. Well, not at first. And besides, he had his reasons, didn't he? They were protecting the Niblet. Doing what they thought best for her. Hadn't Buffy asked him to protect her? Made him promise to protect her, she had. Well, he had been protecting her. She hadn't even waited for an explanation, just that accusatory, disappointed look flat out. And what did the Big Bad do. Turned and ran with his tail between his legs - all from just a look she had sent him. Well, not this time. This time he was done with running. She was going to hear his side of the story. Drunkenly, he stood. The room spun slightly, making him realize just how much he had drink. The amount was staggering. And so was he as he made his way out the door, leaving a selection of bills he had nicked from some of the other patrons while at the bar.  
  
The clear day had led to a clear night. Even the brightest stars were even almost visible inside the city. The fresh air outside helped clear his head, and by the time he reached the outskirts of the cemetery he was walking almost normally. Seemingly of their own volition, his feet had propelled him to her grave. He knew she wouldn't be there. She would be back at the house, being fussed over by her Watcher and her little sis. The other Scoobies would all be there. Probably drinking hot chocolate. The kind with the little marshmallows in it...  
  
Lost in his thoughts, Spike was drawn up short when he heard voices floating towards him in the stillness of the cemetery. After quick glance around to orient himself, he realized that the voices were coming from the vicinity of Buffy's grave. Now all the nights he had come to her grave had paid off. His familiarity with the area allowed him to sneak up undetected to a position where he could both see and hear what was going on and still remain hidden.  
  
There were three of them clustered about the now pristine gravesite. The woman was dressed in the same type of tweed suit that Giles always wore. There was a young man around Xander's age, but without Xander's horrible taste in shirts, holding a pair of shovels. The third figure was... Spike paused at this point, sensing carefully. No, he was right. The third figure shuffling slowly and aimlessly around the other two WAS a vampire. But he moved with none of a vampire's fluidity, grace, or economy of motion. Even newly awakened vampires were more co-ordinated than this one. Judging by his movements, and the vacant look on his face, Spike guessed that one of the other two had the vampire in some sort of holding spell; possibly a charm spell or a thrall spell of some sort. The young man turned toward the woman, his features outlined in the moonlight. Spike stared intently, trying to determine why the he looked vaguely familiar. Then he heard the low murmur of conversation and strained to hear what they were saying.  
  
"Do you really think this is going to work?" The young man directed the question to the woman as he watched the vampire shamble around them.  
  
The woman's sardonic laugh floated out. "Relax, Tomas. Of course it will work. Prophecies always work. The right ones anyway..."  
  
"No, that's not what I mean. Can't you feel it? This place... it feels... disturbed."  
  
"It's just the ripple effect of the Hellmouth you're feeling. You're not used to the pull of its power." She made light of the younger man's worries.  
  
"No, I can feel the Hellmouth. It's like a black void... " Tomas shook his head, then continued, "It feels empty here, as if magic has been used here. Recent enough that it hasn't replenished itself."  
  
"What do you know about magic, boy? You're only an apprentice. As soon as I raise the Slayer and bring her back to The Council, Rupert Giles will get his dues. He will then be officially blacklisted by the other Watchers and not just "retired". He failed to protect his Slayer, failed to bring his Slayer back. Finally, he will ..."  
  
"But the Council knows about the prophecy. They would have sent Mr. Giles a copy as well..."  
  
The woman's laugh rang loud in the silence of the graveyard. "Oh, they have a copy all right. A copy that will keep them busy searching for the wrong things."  
  
"Wrong things? What do you mean wrong things?"  
  
"Oh, Tomas, you're still so innocent. Let's just say there have been several small changes to the prophecy they received. Some very clever changes that will keep Rupert guessing and searching..."  
  
"All of that means nothing without The Key's Blood. Which they have and you don't." Tomas's statement cut the woman's rant off. Spike was suddenly completely sober. Something was going down here; something very important. The prophecy they had was a fake? But it had worked. He had watched it work. He had made it work... hadn't he? The woman was obviously working for The Council, or was a Watcher in her own right. She also had some serious issues with Giles. And after her disparaging remark about the boy's magical abilities, Spike pinned her as the one who had lain the spell on the vampire.  
  
With a haughty sniff, the woman stopped talking and pulled several vials of blood out of the pocket of her jacket. She rolled them gently in her hands as she showed them to Tomas. The moonlight glinted off the glass, the blood shining darkly.  
  
"That was the simple part. Blood drive at the high school. You're too young? Well, why don't we just find out what blood type you are... It was ridiculously easy." Replacing the vials in her jacket, she stalked over to the headstone nearest Buffy's and sat down. She looked back at the younger man and the enthralled vampire standing where she had left them. With an impatient sigh, she told them, "Well! Dig already. You've got 6 feet to go."  
  
Spike suddenly remembered the Band-Aid on Dawn's arm and her nervous babbling about some blood test thing at school. Now it made sense. Spike watched as Tomas tossed the other shovel in the direction of the vampire, clearly nervous to be in such close proximity. The spelled vampire grabbed up the shovel and started digging with all the energy and zeal of a dog at a rabbit hole. Tomas started to dig as well, staying as far away from the vampire as he could. Spike stayed hidden, watching Buffy's grave being desecrated for the second time that day. His mind raced as he tried to figure out what to do. He had no idea what the two Watchers would find in Buffy's grave but he knew they wouldn't find what they were looking for. And then it was only a matter of time before they put two and two together and came up with a newly raised Slayer. Since they were human, he couldn't attack either of the Watchers. He could attack the spelled vampire but that would only stop them from trying the prophecy tonight...  
  
The dull thunk as a shovel hit wood broke the monotonous sound of dirt on metal. As he watched through the leaves, the vampire and Tomas manoeuvred the coffin out of the grave. The woman just danced around them, giving orders and generally getting in their way, but finally, with thud, the coffin was once again exposed.  
  
"Get it open." The woman commanded Tomas. Turning to the vampire she handed him the vials and told him to drink.  
  
"Uh.... Kat?" Tomas's voice trailed off uncertainly.  
  
"What now?" The woman, Kat, Spike noted to himself, turned back to the younger man.  
  
"There's nothing in here!"  
  
"What do you mean there's nothing there? There has to be..."  
  
"Look for yourself." Tomas backed away from the coffin as Kat came rushing over.  
  
"Idiot! Did you even dig in the right grave?"  
  
"It says 'Buffy Anne Summers right there on the headstone..."  
  
The two began arguing back and forth as Spike switched his attention back to the vampire, Having managed to uncap one of the vials of blood by now, the vampire began to drink. Even from where he was hidden, Spike could smell the rich scent of Dawn's blood. His stomach clenched in pain as the demon inside him howled in misery. The demon remembered, and in remembering, the demon wanted. It took all his strength to keep the demon at bay. As he watched, the vampire threw away the first vial and started in on the second. As he drank, the awkwardness fell away from enthralled vampire, his movements became smoother, more co-ordinated. As the vampire drank the last vial, Spike realized that whatever power, whatever magic was in Dawn's blood had broken the thrall spell the woman had put on the vampire.  
  
The last vial shattered against the headstone the now unthralled vampire had thrown it against. The sound made Kat and Tomas turn. The vampire strode toward them. Kat's face fell as saw the vampire's morphed features and she realized that the vampire had drunk the blood.  
  
"Oh no, you drank it all already!"  
  
The vampire laughed. "What a tasty appetizer. You'll make an even tastier main course."  
  
"Stop! I command you to stop!"  
  
"Stop what? I haven't even started yet!" The vampire walked up to Kat and grabbed her hair. Morphing, he pulled her hair down to expose her neck. Kat struggled futilely in the vampire's strong grip as he lowered his mouth to her neck.  
  
A sudden blow from behind knocked both Kat and the vampire to the ground. The vampire recovered quickly, and turned to see Tomas standing there, still holding the upraised shovel as a weapon. A single step saw the vampire nose to nose with the apprentice Watcher. In a blur of movement, the shovel was ripped from the young man's hands, and then he was backhanded into a headstone, where he slumped and lay still. The vampire tossed the shovel off into the nearby bushes with a guttural laugh and turned his attention back to Kat.  
  
The shovel conveniently landed right in front of the bushes concealing Spike. Stepping out of the bushes, Spike picked up the shovel and broke it over his knee. Looking with satisfaction at the jagged wooden end, he made his way over to the fallen woman just as the vampire hauled her up by her hair.  
  
"Now, where were we?" The vampire grinned with delight as Kat's face grew even paler in the moonlight.  
  
"Right about here." The clipped, accented tones came from behind the vampire. The vampire was started to turn to see who was speaking when jagged end of a shovel handle that suddenly protruded from the front of his chest distracted him.  
  
Kat stumbled backwards a few steps to catch her balance as the hand that was holding her up exploded into dust. Looking up, she saw the bleach- blond black clad vampire flip the stake end over end and catch it again before hiding it away somewhere under his duster.  
  
"You! I know you!"  
  
"Now see, that's where you 'ave me at a disadvantage. 'Cause I have no idea who you are or what your are doing digging up the Slayer's grave." Spike let the demon come to the fore and grinned menacingly at Kat.  
  
"I'm not scared of you, William. We know about you." Her brave words were belied by her actions as she reached under her tweed jacket and withdrew a heavy, ornate cross on a thick gold chain. Brandishing it in front of her, she tried to move away from him.  
  
Spike merely laughed as she waved the cross in front of her. Stepping closer, he caught the cross as she shoved it at him, and used it to pull her closer to him.  
  
"The name is Spike, and sorry ducks, but that wasn't the right answer. You were supposed to apologize and introduce yourself, and then explain what the bloody hell you're doing here."  
  
A surprised squeak escaped Kat's lips as she stared wide-eyed at Spike's hand wrapped around the cross.  
  
"But... but..."  
  
"But... but... but what?" Spike mockingly imitated her. "Oh that's right. I'm not supposed to be able to touch crosses am I? Too bad for you... I can. And I bet you thought I was... what's the word..., "he leaned in even closer and shouted at her.  
  
"NEUTUERED? HOUSEBROKEN? Well, think again. Now, I'm done with asking nice... What. Are. You. Doing. Here."  
  
He might as well have been talking to himself. Kat slumped back, her weight causing the gold chain to snap, and she crumpled to the ground. Looking at the unconscious woman at his feet, Spike couldn't help but grin. Tossing the cross up in the air and catching it again with a flourish, he shouted in exhilaration.  
  
"Oh, yeah! Big Bad is BACK!"  
  
Spike stuffed the cross in the pocket of his duster. He knew a good fence who asked no questions and paid fairly. The cross would fetch a fair sum. Rolling the woman over, he untied the fancy scarf she had around her throat. Ripping it in half, he bound both her ankles and her wrists.  
  
"You'll need to gag her or she'll scream bloody murder when she regains consciousness."  
  
The voice made Spike turn, the makeshift shovel handle suddenly held at the ready. Tomas was now sitting up, but was still slumped against the gravestone. One hand was holding his head, the other one was holding a piece of rope and a handkerchief out to the vampire. Not trusting the other man, Spike stayed where he was.  
  
"I'm not bloody stupid you know... what's the cloth soaked in? Holy water or some such?"  
  
"I know who you are, so you can stop the posturing." Tomas sighed, and struggled to his feet. "You're Spike, otherwise know as William the Bloody. Will you just tie her up before she regains consciousness? I need to speak to Rupert Giles. It's about his Slayer."  
  
"Little boy did his homework. Except for one thing..."  
  
"And that is?"  
  
"I know you're from the bleedin' Watcher's Council. I don't even bloody well like the Watcher's Council. So why, exactly, would I help you."  
  
"Because you helped the Slayer. And I know how to bring the Slayer back."  
  
Spike managed to look surprised. No way was he giving anything away to this poncy sod. Tomas was a Watcher-in-training and neither Giles nor any of the Scoobies trusted the Watcher's Council anymore. But the opportunity to wring information out of them was too important to pass up.  
  
"Give me the cloth. Stay where I can see you."  
  
Tomas tossed the cloth and rope to Spike, then walked slowly around the vampire until he was on the other side of Kat's unconscious form. He watched silently as Spike quickly gagged the woman, then easily hoisted her in a fireman's carry. Motioning to Tomas to walk in front, Spike grinned and said,  
  
"Ladies first."  
  
******************************  
  
The lights were still on in the living room of the house on Revello Drive. Motioning Tomas to go ahead, Spike walked up the drive. The shadows of those in the house were reflected on in the drapes closed against the night. When Tomas stopped abruptly on the doorstep, Spike nearly bowled him over.  
  
"Will you bloody well go in?"  
  
"I can't do that? I haven't been invited in or even formally introduced to these people. It would be terribly impolite."  
  
"Bleedin' aristocracy and yer manners." Spike reached forward and opened the door with a quick twist of his wrist. Shoving Tomas in first, he followed directly behind him. Turning the corner into the living room, he set the unconscious Watcher down in the first empty seat he could find. Straightening, he looked around the room. Xander and Anya were looking at him as if he had gone nuts. Willow, Tara and Dawn just looked puzzled. Giles had that confused Watcher look that he normally had. And Buffy, she was looking at the floor, the walls, anywhere but at him.  
  
"Spike?" Giles' mention of his name was a question.  
  
"Watcher. Caught these two Council sods mucking about with the Slayer's grave. " Spike saw Buffy flinch as he mentioned her grave, but Giles' next question redirected his attention to the matter at hand.  
  
"Two? I see only one...a-a-and what did you do to this poor woman?"  
  
Tomas stepped around Spike at this point.  
  
"He merely threatened her until she passed out."  
  
Giles face paled and he swayed on his feet before he managed to grab the back of a nearby chair for support.  
  
"Hello father." Tomas's quiet words fell like stones in a still pond.  
  
-tbc- 


	9. Familiar Strangers

TITLE: Resurgence - Chapter 9: Familiar Strangers  
AUTHOR: Sheri Steeves   
FEEDBACK: Please! Post to list or send e-mail to sheristeeves at hotmail dot com. You know what to replace with what.  
ARCHIVE/POSTED: alt.tv.buffy-v-slayer.creative, www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=67481, and www.geocities.com/buffyafterdark. If anyone else wants it, just ask.  
SPOILERS: Takes place after Season 5 - The Gift. Sort of AU.   
RATING: PG  
DISCLAIMER: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy etc own all of this. I just want to borrow them for a while. Katherine & Tomas are wholly figments of my imagination. Joss can have them if I get Spike. Or Giles. Or Xander. I'm not picky.  
SUMMARY: The Scooby gang find out about the fake prophecy, a surprising conspiracy and discover a new ally.  
  
Resurgence - Chapter 9: Familiar Strangers  
  
Absolute silence blanketed the room. The only sound was the faint tick of a clock echoing from somewhere upstairs. The Scoobies could only stare at the new arrival, looking between him and Giles and back again. Spike regarded the young man in front of him and suddenly the familiarity he had sensed when he caught sight of Tomas' features in the cemetery made sense. With the exception of his hair colour, he was a carbon copy of Giles. Now that he could see him in the light, Spike was surprised that he hadn't made the connection right away.  
  
"Wow!" Anya was the first to speak. " A younger Giles. And much better looking without the tweed..."  
  
"An..." Xander reproached his wife.  
  
"Well, he is..." Anya stage-whispered back.  
  
"Guess you did get a shag in between all those cuppas." Spike grinned at a clearly flustered Giles, getting great enjoyment out of the Watcher's obvious predicament.  
  
"Spike! " Dawn shot him a warning look from her position on the couch beside her sister, the censure evident in her voice.  
  
"What?" Spike looked back at the rest. "Hey, son or not... these two were trying to raise Buffy using our bleedin' prophecy. Only they have the real one - ours is a bloody fake."  
  
Buffy looked up from where she sat on the couch. At some point during the day she must have showered and changed; sitting there in a tank top and sweats, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, Spike could imagine that she had never left. Her gaze fell on Tomas, her voice low with repressed anger.  
  
"That's funny, cause I feel pretty real for being raised by a fake prophecy."  
  
"It's a rather long and involved story." Tomas took his glasses off and started polishing them with a cloth he pulled from his pocket.   
  
"Then you better start telling it, hadn't you?"  
  
The harshness of Giles' voice startled them all. The shock and surprise in his features had been replaced with anger and frustration and something indescribable they had never seen in his face before. His eyes were trained on Tomas, pinning the younger man with their intent gaze. His knuckles stood out white as his hands clenched the back of the chair like a lifeline.  
  
"Um I... I'm not sure where to start, really...." Tomas ran his hand through his hair, wincing in pain as he brushed the swelling on his head where he had fallen against the gravestone.  
  
"Why don't we start with names..." Xander spoke up. " I thought I knew all the assholes on the Council."  
  
Tomas looked around the room at the assembled group as he gathered his thoughts and tried to determine where to start and how much to tell them. Standing beside him was the master vampire William the Bloody, or Spike, said to no longer be able to hunt humans due to a chip in his head. Also obviously now immune to crosses as well. The Slayer and her sister were side by side at one end of the couch. The Watcher, his... father... it was like looking at himself in the future. Rupert Giles was pale with shock, and looked older than he actually was, but there was a grim, determined cast to his features. Interesting. His mother had been right about his father. The two girls on the other end of the couch must be the witches. Powerful ones, if mostly untrained, according to the reports he had read. Judging by the waves of power surrounding them, the reports were right. Looking at their intertwined hands, he saw there was more than just magic between them. Sharing the armchair with another girl was a young man about his age; that would be the construction worker and Anyanka, the vengeance demon turned human. This? This was the group that had sent Travers scampering back to the Council with his tail between his legs and revenge in his heart?   
  
"My name is Tomas MacNeil." Tomas paused here, his eyes meeting Giles' across the room. The flare of recognition at his name was unexpected. Shaking off those thoughts for later, he started to continue but was interrupted by a low moan from Kat as she lay slumped in the other armchair. She sat up and blinked in confusion at her surroundings.  
  
"Hey, I know her! She's one of the nurses at my school! What's..."  
  
Before Dawn could finish her question, Tomas made a small motion in Kat's direction with his hand and commanded " Somne!". The woman promptly slumped back into the armchair. Tara and Willow exchanged a glance. They had both felt the surge of power that had flared at Tomas' command, and then had just as quickly subsided to an undetectable state.  
  
"Yes, I believe I know Ms. Pierce as well." Giles focused his attention back on Tomas. "I suggest you tell us exactly what's going on."  
  
"I was sent here with Ms. Pierce to help bring the Slayer back. Officially, I am here to assist Ms. Pierce, but unofficially I'm here to try and find out why several key pieces of information were not sent to you when they should have been."  
  
"Like the Slayer diaries from Romania..." Giles' voice was hard, accusatory.  
  
"Exactly. We've known of the discrepancy for some time now, but deemed it more important to keep that fact quiet while we determined who it was that was withholding the information. I know you don't trust anyone from the Council right now - and you've good cause not to, but we have our own reasons. There are ongoing power struggles within the Council that would make some of your battles here on the Hellmouth seem tame. And Quentin Travers is in the thick of it." Tomas turned from Giles to Buffy.  
  
"Travers never quite got over your little display of independence last year, Miss Summers. It quite ruined his standing with the elders of the Council; one of the most powerful Watchers in the Council upstaged by a Slayer. Travers wanted you out of the picture. You couldn't be controlled. And what can't be controlled is a liability in his world. You have to understand that in his world, his position in the Council, where he stands in respect to the other Council members, is all matter of the balance between about power and control."  
  
"So he was willing to let a Hellgod...Hellgoddess... whatever, run free and risk hell on earth to kill Buffy? 'Cause she pissed him off?" Willow's question echoed the sentiments of the others in the room.  
  
"Yes and no. Travers had a backup team there in case Buffy failed. They had the spells from the diaries."  
  
"And if I didn't fail?"   
  
"You still would have 'failed'."  
  
Silence again settled over the room as they digested just how far Travers had been willing to go.  
  
"Blast the man!" Giles was the first to break the silence in a voice that shook with suppressed anger. "To carry a personal vengeance this far... How could the Council not see what was happening? How could they not notice?"  
  
"The Council is full of politics, back-stabbing and in-fighting. The only thing most of the members notice are their own petty power struggles. There are some of us who still hold true to the original ideals of the Council of preserving our knowledge of the demon world and protecting the Slayer and the others out there fighting, but there are fewer of us with each passing year. As it is, it has taken us a full year to track down that person or persons responsible for withholding the information from you. The prophecy was the clinching factor. It led us to Ms. Pierce, who led us to Quentin Travers."  
  
"Speaking of Sleeping Beauty here, what's her line? Why does she want me dead?"   
  
Tomas turned back to Buffy. He saw anger burning in her eyes. Eyes that were older than the twenty-one years he knew her to be. Eyes that had seen too much, done too much, and were now forced back to deal with it all again.  
  
"She's not after you. Her ultimate target is...ah... Mr. Giles. You were just a way to get to him. I wasn't able to discover why as of yet. I do believe though, that Travers was just using Kat while she fit in with his plans. I imagine that is why he teamed with her when the prophecy was discovered. "  
  
"I know why." Giles moved around from the back of the chair and slumped into it like a man defeated. A man whose past had caught up to him. Again. Taking his glasses off, he ran his hand wearily over his face and through his hair. Replacing his glasses, he looked back at the rest.  
  
"Her brother Randall. She's always blamed us for his death. Mostly she has blamed me, stating I should have known what I was getting into." Seeing the blank looks from the faces around him, Giles continued to explain.  
  
"Randall Pierce was the young man possessed by Eyghon who was later killed when we tried to exorcise the demon from him. Katherine was a few years older, ahead of me at the Council, if you will. It was through her that I met Randall, and through Randall that I met Ethan Rayne and the rest. And, well... you know how that all ended."  
  
"Ok, so we know why she was helping Travers. But if Travers wanted me..." Buffy's voice trembled a bit at this point. Clearing her throat, she continued. "If he wanted me dead to begin with, why bring me back? Why not just hide the prophecy?"  
  
"That a prophecy concerning the Slayer's rebirth had been found was already common knowledge in the Council. Travers had managed to sway the Council members into giving him some time to research the prophecy in more detail. This gave him time to slip a slightly modified version of the prophecy back to the council, as well as turn the situation to his own advantage.  
  
"Power, Miss Summers. Like I said before, it's always about power. With you gone, the Council needed another Slayer. Since you had already died once, no new Slayer was called. That left Faith, who was called from Kendra. Since she is currently incarcerated, it was decided that bringing you back would be the best option." Reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket, Tomas withdrew a small black leather case the size of a travel sewing kit.  
  
"I'm sure you recognize one of these, Mr. Giles." Tomas unzipped the three-sided zipper and lay the case flat on the coffee table. An array of slender glass vials with blister-seal tops lined one side of the case. Along the other side, neatly arranged, lay a selection of plungers and hypodermic needles.   
  
"Just like the Cruciamentum." Buffy's voice echoed the remembered feeling of helplessness, frustration, and anger.  
  
"Crucy - what?" Xander asked, turning to Giles for an explanation.  
  
"That was when the Council and Giles drugged me to take away my Slayer powers, then sent me against a migraine-crazed vampire... to see if I could handle myself." Buffy answered before Giles could. Shame passed briefly over Giles' face at the remembrance of what he had done to his Slayer. She may have forgiven him, but he had yet to forgive himself. Forcing himself to meet her eyes, he agreed with her.  
  
"Um, yes, Buffy, you're right. Some of these drugs are similar to the drug used for the Cruciamentum, and some are far worse."  
  
"Worse? How worse?" Dawn eyed the black case with trepidation and pushed herself further back into the couch and closer to her sister. It was Tomas who answered Dawn's question.  
  
"The standard kit containts a selection of mind-altering drugs, hallucinogens, truth serums and muscle relaxants. We were to use these as appropriate as soon as Miss Summers was raised to facilitate bringing her back to England with us to be 'rehabilitated'."  
  
"Rehabilitated! Like Faith was to be 'rehabilitated'? But Buffy's done nothing wrong!" Willow's voice rose with outrage.   
  
"That is exactly why Travers chose to try and resurrect Miss Summers first. While not exactly one to toe the Council line, she did do battle against the forces of darkness in her own way. Travers decided it would be easier to try and rehabilitate Buffy first, get control over her, if you will. If Travers could get control of the legendary Slayer Buffy Summers, it would go a long way to bringing his standing in the Council back to where it was, and maybe even improve it. And if that failed, there was still Faith. And if she died too, then a new Slayer would be called anyway."  
  
"If she died too... And you Council wankers call us monsters? What in bloody hell does this rehabilitation do?" Spike, silent until now, spoke up. He had just gotten his Slayer back. Whether she wanted him in her life or not, he wasn't about to loose her again.  
  
"It's not pretty." Giles answered the vampire's question. "It involves a lot of different methods. Different drugs are administered to make the subject more acceptable to the ideas and concepts presented to them. This is sometimes coupled with other methods such as sleep or light deprivation, or solitary confinement. Whatever it takes to break the subject completely. Once they are broken, sometimes they can be put back together as desired. Sometimes not." Seeing Spike's thunderous expression, Giles was quickly pointed out in his defense.  
  
"Not unlike a lot of the torture you and Drusilla metered out over the years."  
  
"Just a bloody minute, Watcher! I'm one of the good guys now remember? S'not me bringing up your past and shoving it in your face so don't go shoving mine at me! I am not the enemy here!" Spike angrily shouted as he stalked over to Giles.  
  
As the angry vampire approached, Giles stood up, meeting Spike face to face. He knew his remark to the vampire had been unnecessary. He also knew that the vampire had nothing to do with the anger he was feeling; he was just a convenient target for his rage right now. Giles' world had been turned upside down in a matter of a few hours. The events of the previous days had been enough, but this, this was the ultimate betrayal of everything he had worked for all his life. He had done some things he wasn't very proud of, but had done them in the belief that they, and the Council he had worked for, were for the greater good. All his ideals, his supports had come crashing down around him.   
  
Seeing the two, Watcher and vampire, standing nose to nose and glaring at each other, Buffy jumped up to intervene. Pushing her Watcher back down into the chair, she held Spike back with a hand on his chest.   
  
"That's enough! This isn't helping." Turning to Spike, she looked directly at him for the first time this evening. "You, you go sit down and cool off."  
  
"Yeah, shoulda figured you'd take the Watcher's side. " Spike bitterly responded, pulling away from the feel of her hand on his chest.  
  
"Spike! Sit!" Exasperated, Buffy turned to Giles. "And Giles, that was uncalled for. We're all upset right now, but picking fights with each other is not the answer. What gives? What happened to my calm, unflappable Watcher?"  
  
"He died when you jumped off that tower." Giles, angry that Buffy had taken Spike's side, lashed out. Seeing the hurt in her face at his remark, the anger drained out of him and he drew a shaky breath.   
  
"I'm sorry, Buffy. You're right. We're all tired and a little on edge. That remark, although true, was uncalled for as well. Part of me did die when you jumped. I think a part of all of us, even Spike, died with you that night." Giles glanced at the rest of the Scoobies as he said this, including the sulking vampire in the corner as well, then continued.  
  
"We've all changed over the past year. We're not the same people we were when you left."  
  
"I know. Dawn's a good half a foot taller than I am. And I couldn't help but notice Xander and Anya's wedding bands - even before Anya shoved it under my nose. I'm the one who hasn't changed. I don't feel any different from the frustrated girl that leapt of the tower to save her sister. Hearing you say I've been... gone... for a year is one thing, but seeing you all interact with each other, taking responsibilities that you wouldn't have before brings it all home to me that I really, really was gone, and this isn't just a dream." Buffy looked around at all of them, then returned to her seat on the couch before continuing.  
  
"So, I'm not back a day yet and it's business as usual. Except it's not demons we're fighting this time, now it's the Council. Or so it seems. How do we know Tomas is telling us the truth? Why should we trust him? We don't even know for sure that he is really Giles' son..."  
  
"Buff, c'mon, he looks just like G-man... they've gotta be related. If they're not, well, it's just creepy..." Xander shuddered as he looked at Tomas then over to Giles.  
  
"I think we've all seen enough to know that we can't trust just looks. Look at the invasion of the body snatchers stunt that Faith pulled on me... or Giles, what about the time Ethan turned you were turned into a demon?"  
  
"Find what you were looking for?" Tomas' voice broke into the discussion. The question   
was directed at a rather pale-faced Willow.   
  
"He's for real." Willow swallowed, sharing a reassuring glance with Tara.  
  
"What did you do to her?" Buffy demanded, worried at the paleness of the young witch's face.  
  
"He didn't do anything Buffy... I... looked... without asking. It's OK, really."  
  
"OK, that's enough. You've been pretty free with everyone's story but your own. I think it's time we learned about Tomas McNeil." Buffy looked directly at Tomas.  
  
"Everything I've told you about the Council is true. Some of it is my suspicions; most of it is fact. A lot of my suspicions have been confirmed with tonight's activities. There is more, but it's between Mr. Giles... my father... and I. I would prefer to discuss it with him alone."  
  
"Giles?" Buffy turned back to her Watcher, still sitting in the chair she had pushed him into.   
  
"Um, yes, I believe... ah... Tomas and I have some things to discuss that should be done in private." Giles looked around the living room at his extended and definitely unconventional family. Not every family can boast a Slayer, a green glowy key made human, a vengeance demon turned human, two witches, a young man whose only power was his loyalty to the others and a soul-less vampire struggling to fit in. But as he looked around, Giles realized that they had, indeed, become his family. And now, he may have more of a family than he had ever thought he would have.  
  
"It's not that I don't trust you all, and have - with my life at times." Giles smiled wryly at this, sharing the answering grins from the group, "But I think this is just something that should be discussed between Tomas and myself for now."  
  
"Its OK, Giles." Willow smiled at the Watcher. "We understand."  
  
"Yeah, it's late and we should all be getting home. It's been a pretty intense day." Xander stood up, bringing Anya to her feet with him. Turning to Buffy he gathered the petite Slayer into a hug.   
  
"Glad to have you back, Buffster." Xander stepped back and walked to the door.  
  
"But I want to stay and hear what Tomas has to say!" Anya protested, following Xander. As the door closed behind them, the rest could hear Xander explaining to Anya why she couldn't stay and listen.  
  
Willow and Tara were the next to stand and make ready to leave. Looking at the figure still slumped in the armchair, Tara turned to Buffy and asked.  
  
"W...What about Ms Pierce?"  
  
"Just leave her as she is for now." Tomas answered. "She as much as admitted to deceiving the council and falsifying the prophecy to me when we were in the cemetery. That was the proof we were looking for. I'll contact the Council on my mobile and arrange for her retrieval."  
  
Buffy walked up to Tomas. Even though the top of her head came to just above his shoulders, he was held by the intensity of her gaze. In a split second she seemed to have gone from normal, young girl to primal force. There was a predatory aspect to her movements, her eyes holding his trapped like a cat with a mouse. For a moment, Tomas could see just what it was about this girl that had intimidated Travers so.  
  
"You can call the Council. But to them I am still dead. The prophecy did not work. Everything you saw here did NOT happen. The 'retrieval' is far, far away from me, my house, or my friends. Do we understand each other?"   
  
"Perfectly, Miss Summers. There are enough power struggles within the Council already. We don't need to add control over the Slayer back into the mix. We already know where that has led us."  
  
"I'll hold you to that."   
  
Buffy stepped past Tomas. Once past the young Watcher, the animal grace of her movements slipped from her like a coat dropped to the floor. She walked Willow and Tara to the door, Dawn joining them as they slipped on their coats. After an exchange of hugs all around, the two Wiccas left. Buffy reached to lock the door then realized that Spike was still in the living room.  
  
"Spike."  
  
"Slayer." Spike's voice was a low growl as he looked at her. Something indescribable passed between the two of them as they stood there looking at each other. That the blond vampire was glad to see her was written large upon his face. His eyes raked her body, drinking in the sight of her like a parched man drinks water. His joy at seeing her alive quickly gave way to apprehension as she remained silent. What would happen now? Would the Scoobies still need him? Would they still want him around now that Buffy was back? And, more importantly, would Buffy want him around? As they continued to stare at one another, his apprehension turned to disappointment when Buffy answered.  
  
"Don't you have a crypt somewhere with your name on it?"  
  
Half expecting it, but still taken aback, Spike just looked at Buffy as she stood by the door. The bloody wankers hadn't told her anything. Hadn't told her about all his help over the past year. Hadn't told them that this was his home now too. At least he had started to feel like it was. And now the Slayer was back and it was apparent that she no longer needed nor wanted him around. Well, he had news for her.   
  
"Didn't they tell you, luv?" Spike walked over to her, the cocky swagger evident in the swing of his hips. "Your basement is my crypt now."  
  
"The basement. " Buffy's voice trailed off as she looked at him.  
  
"That's right. Your basement. Got a right posh little room there, I have."  
  
"Oh, Buffy, we forgot to tell you." Dawn's sheepish voice broke into the tension between the two. "Um... Spike lives in the basement now."  
  
Beseechingly, Buffy turned to Giles.   
  
"Giles... tell me it isn't true."  
  
"I'm rather afraid it is, Buffy. Spike does indeed live in the basement. As you pointed out, many things have changed. Spike is one of them. He kept the promise he made to you to protect Dawn. He's helped us out a fair bit this past year." Giles' quiet answer stilled the questions and misgivings she had.   
  
"The good guys are after us and the bad guy is on our side... Sunnydale's just as topsy-turvy as ever. At least that has stayed the same" Buffy sighed, suddenly overwhelmed by the day's events. Turning to Dawn she asked, " Is my room still the same, or has that changed too?"  
  
"No, it's still exactly as you left it. Spike wouldn't let us."  
  
Too tired to think the implications of that through, Buffy turned to Spike, a tremulous smile of gratitude on her face.  
  
"I guess I should thank you then. "  
  
Caught in her smile, Spike merely stared at her until the silence stretched between them. Realizing he should have said something by now, he looked down at the floor, embarrassed. Tracing a pattern in the entryway carpet with the toe of his boot he mumbled an almost unintelligible "You're welcome, luv."  
  
Buffy and Dawn wished Giles a good night, knowing as they said it that he probably wouldn't have one anyway, and then went up the stairs. Spike stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching Buffy until she was out of sight. When he could no longer see her, he turned back to Giles. With a cautious look at the still sleeping woman and the younger Watcher, he spoke to Giles, the unwritten warning in his voice apparent to Tomas.  
  
"If you need me you know where I am."  
  
An enigmatic look passed between the two Englishman, Giles' apology and Spike's understanding of the night's events passing between them silent and unspoken, but understood all the same. With a nod, Spike left the room, the sound of his boots on the basement stairs fading to silence.  
  
Alone, father and son stood awkwardly, neither knowing what to say. As was his wont in situations, like this Giles sought refuge in the familiar. Looking over at Tomas, he spoke at the same time as the younger man.  
  
"Tea?"  
  
-tbc- 


	10. Familiar Strangers II - Midnight Convers...

TITLE: Resurgence - Chapter 10: Familiar Strangers II - Midnight Conversations  
AUTHOR: Sheri Steeves   
FEEDBACK: Please! Post to list or send e-mail to sheristeeves at hotmail dot com. You know what to replace with what.  
ARCHIVE/POSTED: alt.tv.buffy-v-slayer.creative, www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=67481, and www.geocities.com/buffyafterdark. If anyone else wants it, just ask.  
SPOILERS: Takes place after Season 5 - The Gift. Sort of AU.   
RATING: PG  
DISCLAIMER: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy etc own all of this. I just want to borrow them for a while. Katherine & Tomas are wholly figments of my imagination. Joss can have them if I get Spike. Or Giles. Or Xander. I'm not picky.  
SUMMARY: Giles learns that the ultimate price has been paid for a mistake made in his youth. Tomas discovers the mistakes, secrets, and betrayals that have shaped his life. Between them, a common enemy is found.  
  
Resurgence  
Chapter 10: Familiar Strangers II - Midnight Conversations  
  
Alone in the kitchen, Giles filled the kettle. His hands shook as he set it on the stove and reached to turn on the burner under the kettle.  
  
** I have a son. **  
  
The newly discovered fact burned in his thoughts, overshadowing even the shocking revelations that had come to light this past evening. Half-formed questions and angry accusations randomly came to mind, each one disappearing as soon as he grasped it, only to be replaced by another. Taking a deep breath to try and quell his nervousness, Giles focused on setting out the teapot, gathering milk, sugar and lemon and the other niceties of an English tea, and arranging them neatly on the counter. The rest of the gang had left for home and what sleep they would get for the remainder of the night. Those that lived in the house on Revello Drive had made their way to their respective beds. Ms. Pierce, still under the effects of Tomas' sleep spell, had been covered with an afghan and left in the armchair.  
  
The hushed tones of Tomas' conversation with the Council floated into the kitchen from the dining room, just loud enough to almost make out what was being said. With dismay, Giles realised his hands were still shaking as he set two cups on the counter. Gripping the edge of the counter tightly, he was staring unseeing out the kitchen window when he heard Tomas fold his cell phone shut with a click, followed by the sound of the younger man entering the kitchen. In the mirror the darkness made of the kitchen window their eyes met as Tomas stood hesitantly on the other side of the room. Across the island still cluttered with the remnants of the previous night's research, father and son stared at each other's reflection in the window, neither knowing quite where to start.  
  
They both jumped at the shrill whistle of the kettle. Reaching for the madly screeching kettle, Giles was thankful for something to do to break the awkward moment. Pouring the boiling water into the teapot, he swished it around to warm the pot and then dumped the contents in the sink. Refilling the teapot, he added two teabags and set it on the counter to steep.   
  
"My... ah...apologies for the mess..." Giles gestured for Tomas to sit as he shoved some papers aside, clearing a small area on the cluttered island.  
  
"That's fine, really." Tomas pulled out a stool on the opposite side of the island, then continued. " Your Slayer's quite something."   
  
'That's where you're wrong. " Giles chuckled ruefully. "Buffy is not my Slayer. If she is anyone's Slayer, she is her own. Always has been. I count myself fortunate that she comes to me for guidance. Sometimes she even listens to what I have to say." Giles paused for a moment, but anxious to fill the silence that threatened to come between them, he continued.  
  
"That's why the Council has never been able to establish a hold over her, try as they might. It's also why she's the only Slayer to last this long. Her ability to grow, to change, and to adapt is her strength. The demon world is changing. The dogma of the Council is not. Therein lies its weakness' and its downfall." Giles trailed off awkwardly, aware that he was avoiding the issues at hand.  
  
Silence fell after Giles' comments. Tomas regarded the man in front of him. He wasn't anything like he had been led to believe. He obviously cared deeply for the Slayer and her friends, as they cared for him in return. That he looked upon Buffy as a daughter was apparent in his defence of her, in his very tone of voice as he talked about her. Unbidden, a shard of envy, of jealously, pricked him. *He* was the son. *He* should be the one to bring those feelings of loyalty out. Deliberately, Tomas squashed those feelings. Those were the feelings of an immature little boy. He was an adult now. Coolly, he responded.  
  
"We're not here to discuss your views on Council policy."  
  
"No..., no, I suppose we're not." Giles answered, wondering what he had said that had angered the young man.   
  
Silence fell between them again, shadowing the awkwardness of the situation. Tomas played with some dried herbs left on the table, picking off the small blossoms and crumbling them to dust between his fingers. Big secret agent guy he might be in the Council, but now, here, everything was completely different from what he could ever had imagined it would be. Face to face with the one man he had thought never to meet, a man he had thought dead for so long, he was suddenly wracked with nerves and feelings he had thought he was long past. At the sound of Mr. Giles - he couldn't call him father, not yet - clearing his throat, Tomas looked up. Blue eyes met blue eyes, each face a mirror altered only by time.  
  
"Looking at you is like looking into the past. Like a… a picture come to life… " Giles' voice was shaky, betraying his emotional state despite the calm expression on his face. His hands only shook slightly as he placed two cups of tea and the milk, sugar and lemon in front of his son.  
  
"It's quite odd from this end as well." Tomas set the herb down, sweeping the crumbled bits neatly in a pile beside the stripped branches.   
  
"You must have a thousand questions… " Giles sat down across from his son, wrapping his hands around his own cup of tea, drawing what strength he could from its warmth and normalcy.  
  
"I should...I did... but right now they all seem to be eluding me... " Tomas glanced up at Giles, then focused on adding lemon to his tea. It was easier to continue when he wasn't looking at his father.   
  
" You have to understand... I didn't even know you existed - that you were alive, until recently."  
  
"That makes two of us then..." Giles paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, "Your mother..."  
  
"You knew my mother." Tomas interrupted, unable to keep the incredulity out of his voice. Glancing at his father, he saw the slightly bemused expression on his face. Of course Giles *knew* his mother. Realising he hadn't quite made himself clear, he continued.  
  
"I mean... you remembered her. I could tell by your face when I said who I was."  
  
"You seem surprised that I should. Oh, yes, I remember Tessa. I've never forgotten. I don't think I could forget her even if I tried."  
  
"Then why did you leave her?" Tomas' voice was low, anguished. The voice of a man who had grown up watching his mother love a dead man his entire life. The voice of a man who had watched his mother steadfastly ignore the evidence of desertion presented to her time and time again. The voice of a boy forced to grow up too fast, a boy who longed for a father. He was asking for her, but his tone gave it away. He was really asking 'Why did you leave me?'  
  
"Leave her? I never left her! I most certainly would not have left her if I knew she was pregnant. She left me!"  
  
"That's not what..." Tomas paused, quickly catching himself before he let slip information better left unsaid, " what I was told."  
  
Looking at the barely concealed anger on the face of his son, Giles realised this was getting them nowhere. He too, had caught the pause, the hint of a barely withheld name. Still more secrets. With a sigh, he removed his glasses, setting them down in front if him. Rubbing at the tension gathering behind his eyes, a tension born of the results of the day's events and revelations, as well as physical and emotion exhaustion, he realised the need to start this from another angle. Replacing his glasses, he looked back at Tomas.  
  
"Accusations won't get us anywhere at this point. As much as we would like to, we can't change the past. Can we start with the fact that I did not even know you existed and that I would never have let Tessa leave if had known she was pregnant?"  
  
"She DIDN'T leave you..."  
  
"I'm afraid that's very much like what it seemed from my side of things at the time. I will admit it was a very conflicting time for me. I was dealing with the repercussions of some astoundingly bad decisions. Your mother was the best part of what was a painful and confusing period of my life. She is the only part of that mess that I care to remember. The rest of what happened affected the entire direction of my life. And I see now that it had bigger repercussions than I knew. There are two sides to every story. I would like to hear hers, if you are willing to tell me."  
  
Tomas regarded the older man as he contemplated what he had asked him. Tomas knew what he had been told about Rupert Giles - both by the Council and by his mother. Looking at the man in front of him, Tomas thought back on Giles' actions today regarding the Slayer and his manner towards the others of this rag tag little group. And now, Giles had requested to hear his mother's side of the events, instead trying to refute what Tomas knew with his version of the long ago events. Tomas faced the truth of the growing realisation that his mother had been right about his father, and he had been wrong to believe what he had been told by certain Council members. He knew now that they had simply told him what he, as a rebellious, angry teenager, had wanted to hear. His suspicions of his mentor using him and his anger to further his cause, his own position in the Council, were perilously close to being proven to be true. Giles was not the only Watcher here to have his ideals and supports pulled out from under him. That was something he would deal with later, after all this, when he was back in England. Now, here in Sunnydale, he had a chance to finally put to rest the questions, secrets and lies that had always been a part of his life. Taking a deep breath, he started at the beginning.   
  
"She told me you met in a magic shop."  
  
"Yes. A small little place dealing with the occult that was tucked away in one of the seedier parts of London." Some of the tension left Giles' face as he recalled that long ago, happier time. " I used to go there for supplies. She was apprenticed to the owner. I actually stumbled onto the place quite by accident looking for another shop. But one look at Tessa... I was smitten. I'm afraid she thought me rather mad for a while." Catching Tomas' perplexed look, Giles smiled ruefully and explained. "I bought a rather large assortment of magical items and ingredients before I worked up the nerve to ask her out."  
  
"She never knew what happened to you. The last time she saw you was the afternoon you told her about the coven you were part of. You told her that something had gone very, very wrong and that you were going to try and fix it that night. That was why you needed her to get the black arts grimoire and the ingredients from the shop. The grimoire and spell ingredients that weren't for sale. The ones kept locked in the back room." Watching his father's face, he saw no denial of the past events so far, just a twist of shame at the mention of the stolen items.  
  
"You were supposed to meet the next day. It was her day off and you always spent the day together. You were going to tell her everything about the coven and the reason you needed the grimoire. She waited at the park all morning. She tried to ring you but only ever got a recorded message stating that the number was no longer in service. When she went to your flat, she found it empty. No trace of you, no sign that anyone had even lived there recently. The landlady would only tell her that you had left no forwarding address. She knew no names, no friends to try and contact. The next day she was fired from her job at the occult shop and her apprenticeship terminated due to theft. A month later she realised she was pregnant."  
  
"Tell me the rest." Giles' voice was hoarse with emotions kept in check, but his expression showed only resolve to hear things to the end.  
  
"There's not much left to tell. Except that you left behind a hell of a woman. She raised me by herself. Worked two, sometimes three jobs to support us, but she did it. And through all that, she never stopped loving you. You abandoned her, and she still believes in you." Tomas's voice showed the incredulity that he felt that his mother could still love this man after all she had been through. He paused here, glancing at his father, watching for a reaction to what he had said. A small measure of surprise and hope flashed across the older man's face as he realised that there may still be some small chance to make things right with his past. Giles said nothing though, knowing instinctively that Tomas wasn't finished, and that there was more to come.  
  
"When I was sixteen, the Council approached me. They'd been watching me my entire life, waiting to see if I would follow my father's destiny. Seems that I had and they wanted me to train to be a Watcher. That was the first really big argument Mum and I ever had. She'd already lost you to the machinations of the Council, or so she believed, and didn't want to lose me as well. It was then that I found out that they had been sending her monthly stipends since the day I was born." Tomas watched the swift play of anger across Giles' face. The ferocity of it surprised him. As did his response. For the first time, Tomas could see where his father's nickname of The Ripper came from. The deadly calm of Giles' voice only enhanced the depth of his anger.   
  
"They knew. All these years they've kept you from me. Just another pawn in their game. Blast them all. Blast them all to hell!" Giles abruptly stood. The legs of the stool he had been sitting on scraped roughly against the tile of the kitchen floor. Fighting to control his anger, to contain the Ripper, he whirled, hands grasping the side of the counter so hard the knuckles popped. His breathing ragged, he stared for long moments at his reflection framed in the darkness of the kitchen window.  
  
Tomas waited for a moment to let his father's anger cool a bit before continuing. He was familiar with the type of anger Giles was struggling to control. He had inherited more than his looks from his father. When he heard the ragged breathing begin to slow, he looked at his father's reflection. As blue eyes met, Giles turned, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed as he nodded for Tomas to continue.  
  
"Mum never spent a drop of it. She knew that the source of the money was also behind your disappearance. She kept it though, set it aside for me, in case something ever happened to her. She thought that my knowing about the Council and the hand she thought they played in your disappearance would dissuade me. It didn't." Tomas paused here again, finishing off the rest of his now cold tea with a grimace. Looking up he met his father's eyes again. It was time for the truth. No more lies, no more evasions.   
  
"I accepted. Not because you were a Watcher. I joined because of the power they dangled in front of me like a carrot. They told me everything an angry sixteen-year old wants to hear. And I listened and believed. They knew I had inherited my mother's magical abilities, as well as your thirst for knowledge and the arcane arts. They told me everything about the father that abandoned me, how he rejected his destiny, scorned the Council and practised dark magics. How he lured my innocent mother into trusting him and then used her. They used my hatred of you to pull me to them. But despite the mounting evidence against you, the *proof* that I presented to Mum, she refused to believe anything the Council told me. Then I found out that you were not only alive, but also still working for the Council, and to top it off, a Watcher to the Slayer. After that, I didn't know what to believe."   
  
Silence hung between the two men as Tomas sat watching his father. Expressions ranged across the older man's face. Anger, sorrow, shame, betrayal, hope. Much the same emotions that he was feeling now as well. Giles spoke, his voice tentative, his anger at the Council buried for now.  
  
"Does she know that..."  
  
"That you're still alive? That I found you?" Tomas interrupted, guessing correctly what his father was asking. "I couldn't tell her. Not until I found out if you were a complete wanker or if my mother's faith in you was justified."  
  
"And... " Giles was afraid to hear the answer.   
  
"The jury's still out on that one, as the American's say."  
  
Giles nodded, approving of Tomas's protection of his mother. Turning from the boy, he took two glasses from the cupboard and a bottle of scotch from a cabinet. Setting them in front of them he poured himself a measure of the golden liquid. Moving the bottle over the other glass he looked to Tomas. At his nod, he poured the same amount for his son. Placing the bottle between them, Giles reached for his glass and took a large drink. Setting his glass down, he started to talk.  
  
"I was twenty-one and studying history at Oxford. At night I was studying the occult with the Council. After two years, I hated it. I grew to loathe the never-ending, monotonous round of study, as well as the demands of the Council and how I must fulfil my destiny. At one point, I snapped, I...I just couldn't take it anymore. Escaping to London, I ran into Randall, Katherine's brother, and his friends. The youngest son and heir of an old and prestigious family, he was a spoiled bully who was used to getting his own way and having everything given to him. He knew I had been studying under the Council, since I had met him through Katherine. Recognising immediately that I could be of some amusement, that I could provide something new and different from the usual round of parties, drugs and alcohol, he introduced me around. It was about the worst sort of crowd that I could have fallen into. It wasn't long before we started practising some of the darker magics. Small stuff at first. Spells that gave feelings of pleasure or ways of getting things without working. We would go to the clubs and use the magics to get free drinks and have women fall all over us. I embraced that whole lifestyle. I had always done what was right, what I should do. Now I could do what I wanted to do, not what I had to do, or what I should do, or what I was told to do. I was very naive, and very, very stupid.  
  
"It was during this period in my life that I met your mother. I fell in love with her at first sight. Once I worked up the nerve to ask her out, we spent nearly every day off after that together. She was pretty, and funny and she liked me. She laughed at my jokes. I never introduced her to the others. I didn't want her seeing that side of me. It was a side of myself I was already regretting I even had. One part of my life was everything I ever wanted, and the other part was spiralling out of control. Ethan and I..."  
  
"Ethan Rayne? " Tomas interrupted him.  
  
"Yes. Ethan Rayne. How did you know?"  
  
"I've heard of him. Lucky guess. Keep going..."  
  
"Ethan and I discovered The Mark of Eyghon. Are you familiar with that?" At Tomas' nod, Giles continued.  
  
'We lost control far sooner than I, in the false confidence of youth, ever thought we could. Randall was taken by Eyghon, possessed completely. We thought we could exorcise the demon ourselves. That is why I had your mother steal the grimoire and the ingredients from the magic store. I didn't have time to tell her the whole story. I promised I would tell her everything when I returned the grimoire to her the next day. I know now that we were dealing with something that was far more powerful than anything we had ever dealt with before. But back then, I thought I could handle anything. Say a few words, an incantation or two, burn some herbs and the problem would be solved. It had always worked that way before. " Pausing, Giles tossed back the rest of his scotch and filled the glass again. Setting the bottle down with a thump, he took a deep breath before continuing.  
  
"The magics I channelled that night were tremendous, more than I had ever tried to use before. I couldn't control it and it wasn't long before it quite overwhelmed me. It was a full two weeks before I woke up and found out what had happened. They weren't even sure at first if I would wake up. It was a month or more after that before I could get out of bed, the magic had burned up so much me.  
  
"Once I was lucid, I discovered that the Council had come to our rescue. They have ways of monitoring magical use and controlling it, stopping it before it gets out of hand. Sort of like sending a SWAT team to a bomb scare. I remembered nothing after the feeling of raw, uncontrollable magic, of incredible, indescribable power. From what they told me, I tried to exorcise the demon from Randall. I failed. In failing, I killed him." Giles stopped, wanting to see his son's reaction to this piece of information. To his surprise, his expression was unchanged. No shock, no surprise, no reaction at all. Then Giles realised that what he was telling his son was information the young man had already known, in one version or another. And that this was not the information his son was really looking for. Dredging up those last, painful days in London, his memory of the exhaustion he felt and the fruitless search for Tessa, Giles struggled to put what he had been going through into words.  
  
"As soon as I could, I went to the magic shop. The entire time I was recovering, it was the thought of her, seeing her, talking to her again that kept me going. I desperately needed to see Tessa myself, needed to hear her voice, to explain my actions myself.  
  
"I thought I was going crazy when the proprietor denied knowing anyone by that name, denied ever having an apprentice. He even declared he had never seen me before, despite all the magical items and supplies I had purchased from him over the last few months. I'm afraid I rather made a scene. With room and board as part of her apprenticeship, the shop was my only link to Tessa. I pushed my way into the back rooms, convinced that she was there and he was hiding her from me. All I found was storage rooms and an empty room that could have been hers, but had been stripped bare. I refused to leave until he told me where Tessa was. The owner called the police and had me forcibly removed as I refused to believe him. The Council bailed me out the next day.  
  
"The next time I looked, I couldn't even find the shop. Where the shop had been was one of those pretentious art deco coffee-houses so popular at the time. I checked and double-checked the street and the surrounding shops. Everything else was the same. The owner of the coffee house swore he had been in that location for several years, as did anyone else in the neighbouring shops - including the owner of the little all-night restaurant where your mother and I used to go to. No one remembered seeing a girl that fit your mother's description. I searched for weeks, down every side street, every back alley, all the little hidden shops, frantically trying to find the magic shop or it's owners again. Every time I saw that particular hair colour, my heart would jump, but it was never her. It's never been her. To this day, I've never found the shop or Tessa."  
  
"The Council."  
  
Giles knew what Tomas was stating with those quiet words. They echoed his own thoughts. For whatever reason, the Council had arranged things so that all of Giles' outside connections where broken, arranged it so that all he had left was the Council. With a sigh, he removed his glasses and set them on the island before him. Elbows on the island, head in his hands, he agreed with Tomas.  
  
"It certainly seems to point to them. I know now for a fact that they have the power to do that sort of thing. Your mother was probably seen as a threat to their plans to keep me in the Council, an outside influence that would keep me from fulfilling my 'destiny'. Once they found out about you, you were just another pawn in their games of power. But I still don't understand how they found out about your mother in the first place."  
  
"Ethan Rayne." Tomas took a small sip of the scotch as he waited for his father's reaction.  
  
Giles' head shot up at the mention of his nemesis' name. His eyes narrowed as he demanded Tomas explain.  
  
"He followed you one Sunday when you went to see Tessa. He knew all about her. It was also Ethan who contacted the Council about the exorcism."  
  
"But why? How?"  
  
"The Council was looking for you. They needed a weak link to provide them information about you and your activities. Ethan Rayne provided that link. In return, he would be sponsored into the Council."  
  
"I knew he was interested in the magics. Almost unnaturally so. But who would sponsor him?"  
  
"Quentin Travers sponsored him but it was found that his 'morals' were too flexible and he never officially completed his training." Tomas stressed the word officially, watching his father to make sure Giles understand the inflection.  
  
"Meaning they make use if him when the job is too dirty for them to do themselves."  
  
"That about covers it."  
  
"And so we come full circle back to Travers. Secrets, betrayals and lies. My whole life has been built on them."  
  
"As has mine." Tomas rotated the glass of scotch in front of him, watching the play of light in the liquid through the cut glass pattern.  
  
"What are your plans now? "   
  
"Regarding you or the Council?"  
  
"Well, both really.   
  
" I've arranged for Ms. Pierce to be retrieved in the morning. I'm to detail my report to my superior, and then I've requested some leave time. I've a lot of thinking to do in regards to the role the Council has played in my life, and in my mother's. I'll know in the morning if it is granted and then..." Tomas waited for a beat, still unsure of the decision he was about to make. Looking up, he searched his father's face for some clue as to which way to decide. The hope he saw there convinced him that this was the right decision.  
  
"Then I'd like to spend some time in Sunnydale, if you'll let me."   
  
"I can't think of anything I'd like better."  
  
--tbc-- 


End file.
